tihvary  of  Che  trheolo^icd  ^tminaxy 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 
PRESENTED  BY 

The  Estate  of 
Rev.   Robert  0.  Kirkwood 


BX  6333  .M365  S45  ser.3 
Maclaren,  Alexander,  1826 

1910. 
Sermons  preached  in 

Manchester 


SERMONS   PREACHED   IN   MANCHESTER 

THIRD    SERIES 


SERMONS   PREACHED 
IN  MANCHESTER"t5y 
Alexander  Maclaren  D.D. 

Third  Series 


ill^ 


FUNK   &  WAGNAI,!^   COMPANY 

NEW     YORK 
1905 


CONTENTS. 

SBKMOIV  PAOa 

I.  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE I 

IL  THE    BITTERNESS     AND     BLESSEDNESS    OP    THE 

BREVITY  OF  LIFE l6 

in.  THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON 33 

IV.  THE  CITY  AND   RIVER  OF  GOD.     , 48 

V.  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CHRIST 65 

VI.  THE  NEW  NAJkiE 80 

Vn.  "so  DID  NOT  I** 94 

VIII.    A  DARK  PICTURE  AND  A  BRIGHT  HOPS     .     •     .  Ill 

IX.   THE  NEW  MAN 12/ 

X.  THE  HIDING  PLACE ,     ,     .     ,  I44 

XL  THE  HAPPY  HOPE •     •     .     .     •  I58 

XII.  A  SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE 1 73 

XIII.  CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS    .     •     •     •     .  1S9 

XIV.  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT .  205 


Ti  CONTENTS. 

5EKMON  rAGB 

XV.   ETERNITY   IN   THE  HEART 220 

XVI.   MAN'S  BLESSEDNESS  AND  GOD'S  PRAISE  .     .     .  238 

XVII.   PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT 255 

XVIII.   A  PATTERN  OF  PRAYER .  273 

XIX.  THE  TOILING  CHRIST 29I 

XX.  CONSIDER  CHRIST 3C7 

XXL  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE 325 

XXIL   SOLDIER   PRIESTS 343 

XXIII.  WITNESSES   OF  THE  RESURRECTION      .     -     .     .  361 

XXIV.   NEAREST  TO  CHRIST 376 


SERMONS 


SERMON    I. 

THE  CHRISTIAN   LIFF 


Cor.  vii.  24. 


Brethren,  let  every  man,  wherein  he  is  called,  therein  abide  with 
God. 

VT'OU  find  that  three  times  wnthin  the  compass  of  a 
very  few  verses  this  injunction  is  repeated.  "As 
God  hath  distributed  to  every  man,"  says  the  Apostle  in 
the  17th  verse,  "as  the  Lord  hath  called  every  one,  so 
let  him  walk.  And  so  ordain  I  in  all  churches."  Then 
again,  in  the  20th  verse,  "Let  every  man  abide  in  the 
same  calling  wherein  he  is  called."  And  then  finally  in 
our  text 

The  reason  for  this  emphatic  reiteration  is  not  difficult 
to  ascertain.  There  were  strong  temptations  to  restless- 
ness besetting  the  early  Christians.  The  great  change 
from  heathenism  to  Christianity  would  seem  to  loosen  the 
joints  of  all  life,  and  having  been  swept  from  their  anchor- 
age in  religion,  all  external  things  would  appear  to  be 
adrift.  It  was  most  natural  that  a  man  should  seek  to 
alter  even  the  ciramistances  of  his  outward  life,  when 
such  a  revolution  had  separated  him  from  his  ancient  self 

3  A  S^ 


9  THE  CHRIST/ AN  LIFE,  [SERM. 

Hence  would  tend  to  come  the  rupture  of  family  ties,  the 
separation  of  husband  and  wife,  the  Jewish  convert  seek- 
ing to  become  like  a  Gentile,  the  Gentile  seeking  to 
become  like  a  Jew ;  the  slave  trying  to  be  free,  the 
freeman,  in  some  paroxysm  of  disgust  at  his  former 
condition,  trying  to  become  a  slave.  These  three  cases 
are  all  referred  to  in  the  context — marriage,  circumcision, 
slavery.  And  for  all  three  the  Apostle  has  the  same 
advice  to  give — stop  where  you  are.  In  whatever  con- 
dition you  were  when  God's  invitation  drew  you  to  Him- 
self— for  that,  and  not  being  set  to  a  "vocation"  in  life, 
is  the  meaning  of  the  word  "called"  here — remain 
in  it 

And  then,  on  the  other  hand,  there  was  every  reason 
why  the  Apostle  and  his  co-workers  should  set  themselves, 
by  all  means  in  their  power,  to  oppose  this  restlessness. 
For,  if  Christianity  in  those  early  days  had  once  de- 
generated into  the  mere  instrument  of  social  revolution, 
its  development  would  have  been  thrown  back  for 
centuries,  and  the  whole  worth  and  power  of  it,  for  those 
who  first  apprehended  it^  would  have  been  lost.  So  you 
know  Paul  never  said  a  word  to  encourage  any  pre- 
cipitate attempts  to  change  externals.  He  let  slavery — 
he  let  war  alone;  he  let  the  tyranny  of  the  Roman 
empire  alone — not  because  he  was  a  coward,  not  because 
he  thought  these  things  were  not  worth  meddling  with, 
but  because  he,  like  all  wise  men,  believed  in  making  the 
tree  good  and  then  its  fruit  good.  He  believed  in  the 
diffusion  of  the  principles  which  he  proclaimed,  and  the 
mighty  name   which   he   served,  as  able  to  girdle   the 


l]  the  christian  life.  3 

poison-tree,  and  to  take  the  bark  off  it,  and  the  rest — the 
slow  dying — might  be  left  to  the  work  of  time.  And  the 
same  general  idea  underlies  the  words  of  my  text.  Do 
not  try,  he  says,  do  not  trouble  yourselves  about  external 
circumstances ;  keep  to  your  Christian  profession  ;  let 
those  alone,  they  will  right  themselves.  Art  thou  a  slave  ? 
Seek  not  to  be  freed.  Art  thou  circumcised  ?  Seek  not 
to  be  uncircumcised.  Get  hold  of  the  central,  vivifying, 
transmuting  influence,  and  all  the  rest  is  a  question  of 
time.  But,  besides  this  more  especial  application  of  the 
words  of  my  text  to  the  primitive  times,  it  carries  with  it, 
dear  brethren,  a  large  general  principle  that  applies  to  all 
— a  principle,  I  may  say,  dead  in  the  teeth  of  the  maxims 
upon  which  life  is  being  ordered  by  the  most  of  us.  Our 
maxim  is,  "  Get  on  !  "  Paul's  is,  "  Never  mind  about 
getting  ofi,  get  up!''  Our  notion  is — "try  to  make  the 
circumstances  what  I  would  Uke  to  have  them."  Paul's 
is — "  leave  circumstances  to  take  care  of  themselves,  or 
rather  leave  God  to  take  care  of  the  circumstances.  You 
get  close  to  Him,  and  hold  His  hand,  and  everything  else 
will  right  itself"  Only  he  is  not  preaching  stolid  acqui- 
escence. His  previous  injunctions  were — "Let  every 
man  abide  in  the  same  calling  wherein  he  was  called." 
He  sees  that  that  may  be  misconceived  and  abused,  and 
so,  in  his  third  reiteration  of  the  precept,  he  puts  in  a 
word  which  throws  a  flood  of  light  upon  the  whole  thing : 
— "  Let  every  man  wherein  he  is  called  therein  abide." 
Yes,  but  that  is  not  all — "therein  abide  with  God  I'' 
Aye,  that  is  it !  not  an  impossible  stoicism ;  not  hypo- 
critical, fanatical  contempt  of  the  external.     But  whilst 


4  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE.  [SERM. 

that  gets  its  due  force  and  weight,  whilst  a  man  yields 
himself  in  a  measure  to  the  natural  tastes  and  inclinations 
which  God  has  given  him,  and  with  the  intention  that  he 
should  find  there  subordinate  guidance  and  impulse  for 
his  life,  still  let  him  abide  where  he  is  called  with  God, 
and  seek  to  increase  his  fellowship  with  Him,  as  the 
main  thing  that  he  has  to  do. 

I.  Thus  we  are  led  from  the  words  before  us  first  to 
the  thought  that  our  chief  effort  in  life  ought  to  be  union 
with  God. 

"  Abide  with  God,"  which,  being  put  into  other  words, 
means,  I  think,  mainly  two  things — constant  communion, 
the  occupation  of  all  our  nature  with  Him,  and,  conse- 
quently, the  recognition  of  His  will  in  all  circum- 
stances. 

As  to  the  former,  we  have  the  mind  and  heart  and  will 
of  God  revealed  to  us  for  the  light,  the  love,  the 
obedience  of  our  will  and  heart  and  mind;  and  our 
Apostle's  precept  is,  first,  that  we  should  try,  moment  by 
moment,  in  all  the  bustle  and  stir  of  our  daily  life,  to 
have  our  whole  being  consciously  directed  to  and  en- 
gaged with,  fertilized,  and  calmed  by  contact  with  the 
perfect  and  infinite  nature  of  our  Father  in  heaven. 

As  we  go  to  our  work  to-morrow  morning  again,  what 
difference  would  obedience  to  this  precept  make  upon  my 
life  and  yours  ?  Before  all  else,  and  in  the  midst  of  all 
else,  we  should  think  of  that  Divine  Mind  that  in  the 
heavens  is  waiting  to  illumine  our  darkness ;  we  should 
feel  the  glow  of  that  uncreated  and  perfect  Love,  which, 
io  the  midst  of  change  and  treachery,  of  coldness  and  dL 


t]  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE. 


"greetings  where  no  kindness  is,"  in  the  midst  of  masterful 
authority  and  unloving  command,  is  ready  to  fill  our 
hearts  with  tenderness  and  tranquillity  :  we  should  bow 
before  that  Will  which  is  absolute  and  supreme  indeed, 
but  neither  arbitrary  nor  harsh,  which  is  "the  eternal  pur- 
pose that  He  hath  purposed  in  Himself"  indeed,  but  is 
also  "  the  good  pleasure  of  His  goodness  and  the  counsel 
of  His  grace." 

And  with  such  a  God  near  to  us  ever  in  our  faithful 
thoughts,  in  our  thankful  love,  in  our  lowly  obedience, 
with  such  a  mind  revealing  itself  to  us,  and  such  a  heart 
opening  its  hidden  storehouses  for  us  as  we  approach,  like 
some  star  that,  as  one  gets  nearer  to  it,  expands  its  disc 
and  glows  into  rich  colour,  where  at  a  distance  was  but 
pallid  silver,  and  such  a  will  sovereign  above  all,  ener- 
gizing, even  through  opposition,  and  making  obedience  a 
delight,  what  room,  brethren,  would  there  be  in  our  lives 
for  agitations,  and  distractions,  and  regrets,  and  cares, 
and  fears — what  room  for  earthly  hopes  or  for  sad  remem- 
brances ?  They  die  in  the  fruition  of  a  present  God  all- 
sufficient  for  mind,  and  heart,  and  will — even  as  the  sun 
when  it  is  risen  with  a  burning  heat  may  scorch  and 
witlier  the  weeds  that  grow  about  the  base  of  the  fruitful 
tree  whose  deeper  roots  are  but  warmed  by  the  rays  that 
ripen  the  rich  clusters  which  it  bears.  "  Let  every  man, 
wherein  he  is  called,  therein  abide  with  God:' 

And  then,  as  a  consequence  of  such  an  occupation  of 
the  whole  being  with  God,  there  will  follow  that  second 
element  which  is  included  in  the  precept,  namely,  the  re- 
cognition of  God's  will  as  operating  in  and  determining  all 


6  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE,  [SERM. 

circumstances.  When  our  whole  soul  is  occupied  with 
Him,  we  shall  see  Him  everywhere.  And  this  ought  to 
be  our  honest  effort — to  connect  everything  which  befalls 
ourselves  and  the  world  with  Him.  We  should  see  that 
Omnipotent  Will,  the  silent  energy  which  flows  through  all 
being,  asserting  itself  through  all  secondary  causes,  march- 
ing on  towards  its  destined  and  certain  goal  amidst  all 
the  whirl  and  perturbation  of  events,  bending  even  the 
antagonism  of  rebels  and  the  unconsciousness  of  godless 
men,  as  well  as  the  play  of  material  instruments,  to  its  own 
purposes,  and  swinging  and  swaying  the  whole  set  and 
motion  of  things  according  to  its  own  impulse  and  by  the 
touch  of  its  own  fingers. 

Such  a  faith  does  not  require  us  to  overlook  the  visible 
occasions  for  the  things  which  befall  us,  nor  to  deny  the 
stable  laws  according  to  which  that  mighty  will  operates 
in  men's  lives.  Secondary  causes  ?  Yes.  Men's  opposi- 
tion and  crime  ?  Yes.  Our  own  follies  and  sins  ?  No 
doubt.  Blessings  and  sorrows  falling  indiscriminately 
on  a  whole  community  or  a  whole  world?  Certainly. 
And  yet  the  visible  agents  are  not  the  sources,  but  only 
the  vehicles  of  the  power,  the  belting  and  shafting  which 
transmit  a  mighty  impulse  which  they  had  nothing  to  do  in 
creating.  And  the  antagonism  subserves  the  purposes  of 
the  rule  which  it  opposes,  as  the  blow  of  the  surf  may 
consolidate  the  sea-wall  it  breaks  against.  And  our  own 
follies  and  sins  may  indeed  sorrowfully  shadow  our  lives, 
and  bring  on  us  pains  of  body  and  disasters  in  fortune, 
and  stings  in  spirit  which  we  alone  are  responsible  for, 
and  which  we   have  no  right  to  regard  as  inscrutable 


I.]  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE.  7 

judgments — ^yet  even  these  bitter  plants  of  which  our  own 
hands  have  sowed  the  seed,  spring  by  His  merciful  will, 
and  are  to  be  regarded  as  His  loving,  fatherly  chastise 
ments — sent  before  to  warn  us  by  a  premonitory  experience 
that  "  the  wages  of  sin  is  death."  As  a  rule,  God  doc:; 
not  interpose  to  pick  a  man  out  of  the  mud  into  which  he 
has  been  plunged  by  his  own  faults  and  follies,  until  he 
has  learned  the  lessons  which  he  can  find  in  plenty  down 
in  the  slough,  if  he  will  only  look  for  them  !  And  the  fact 
that  some  great  calamity  or  some  great  joy  affects  a 
wide  circle  of  people,  does  not  make  its  having  a  special 
lesson  and  meaning  for  each  of  them  at  all  doubtful. 
Theie  is  one  of  the  great  depths  of  all  moving  wisdom 
and  providence,  that  by  the  very  self-same  act  it  is  in  one 
aspect  universal,  and  in  another  special  and  individual. 
The  ordinary  notion  of  a  special  providence  goes  peril- 
ously near  the  beHef  that  God's  will  is  less  concerned  in 
some  parts  of  a  man's  life  than  in  others.  It  is  very 
much  Hke  desecrating  and  secularizing  a  whole  land  by 
the  very  act  of  focussing  the  sanctity  in  some  single  conse- 
crated shrine.  But  the  true  belief  is  that  the  whole  sweep 
of  a  life  is  under  the  \vill  of  God,  and  that  when,  for 
instance,  war  ravages  a  nation,  though  the  sufferers  be 
involved  in  a  common  ruin  occasioned  by  murderous 
ambition  and  measureless  pride,  yet  for  each  of  the 
sufferers  the  common  disaster  has  a  special  message.  Let 
us  believe  in  a  Divine  will  which  regards  each  individual 
caught  up  in  the  skirts  of  the  horrible  storm  even  as  it 
regards  each  individual  on  whom  the  equal  rays  of  His 
universal  sunshine  fall.     Let  us  believe  that  every  single 


8  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE.  [SERM, 

soul  has  a  place  in  the  heart,  and  is  taken  into  account  in 
the  purposes  of  Him  who  moves  the  tempest,  and  makes 
His  sun  to  shine  upon  the  unthankful  and  on  the  good. 
Let  us,  in  accordance  with  the  counsel  of  the  Apostle 
here,  first  of  all  try  to  anchor  and  rest  our  own  souls  fast 
and  firm  in  God  all  the  day  long,  that,  grasping  His  hand, 
we  may  look  out  upon  all  the  confused  dance  of  fleeting 
circumstances  and  say,  "  Thy  will  is  done  on  earth  " — if 
not  yet  "  as  it  is  done  in  heaven" — still  done  in  the  issues 
and  events  of  all — and  done  with  my  cheerful  obedience 
and  thankful  acceptance  of  its  commands  and  allotmenti 
in  my  own  life. 

II.  The  second  idea  which  comes  out  of  these  words  is 
this — Such  union  with  God  will  lead  to  contented  cofttinuatice 
in  our  place^  whatever  it  be. 

Our  text  is  as  if  Paul  had  said,  You  have  been  "  called  ** 
in  such  and  such  worldly  circumstances.  The  fact  proves 
that  these  circumstances  do  not  obstruct  the  highest  and 
richest  blessings.  The  light  of  God  can  shine  on  your 
souls  through  them.  Since  then  you  have  such  sacred 
memorials  associated  with  them,  and  know  by  experience 
that  fellowship  with  God  is  possible  in  them,  do  you  re- 
main where  you  are,  and  keep  hold  of  the  God  who  has 
visited  you  in  them. 

If  once,  in  accordance  with  the  thoughts  already 
suggested,  our  minds  have,  by  God's  help,  been  brought 
into  something  like  real,  Hving  fellowship  with  Him,  and 
we  have  attained  the  wisdom  that  pierces  through  the  ex- 
ternal to  the  Almighty  will  that  underlies  all  its  mazy  whirl, 
then  why  should  we  care  about  shifting  our  place  ?    Why 


I.]  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE,  9 

should  we  trouble  ourselves  about  altering  these  varying 
events,  since  each  in  its  turn  is  a  manifestation  of  His 
mind  and  will ;  each  in  its  turn  is  a  means  of  discipline  foi 
us  \  and  through  all  their  variety  a  single  purpose  works, 
which  tends  to  a  single  end — **  that  we  should  be  partakers 
of  His  holiness." 

And  that  is  the  one  point  of  view  from  which  we  can 
bear  to  look  upon  the  world  and  not  be  utterly  bewildered 
and  over-mastered  by  it.  Calmness  and  central  peace 
are  ours ;  a  true  appreciation  of  all  outward  good  and  a 
charm  against  the  bitterest  sting  of  outvv^ard  evils  are  ours ; 
a  patient  continuance  in  the  place  where  He  has  set  us  is 
ours — when  by  fellowship  with  Him  we  have  learned  to 
look  upon  our  work  as  primarily  doing  His  will,  and  upon 
all  our  possessions  and  conditions  primarily  as  means  for 
making  us  like  Himself.  Most  men  seem  to  think  that 
they  have  gone  to  the  very  bottom  of  the  thing  when  they 
have  classified  the  gifts  of  fortune  as  good  or  evil,  accord 
ing  as  they  produce  pleasure  or  pain.  But  that  is  a  poor, 
superficial  classification.  It  is  like  taking  and  arranging 
books  by  their  bindings  and  flowers  by  their  colours. 
Instead  of  saying,  We  divide  life  into  two  halves,  and  we 
put  there  all  the  joyful,  and  here  all  the  sad,  for  that  is  the 
ruling  distinction — let  us  rather  say.  The  whole  is  one, 
because  it  all  comes  from  one  purpose,  and  it  all  tends 
towards  one  end.  The  only  question  worth  asking  in  re- 
gard to  the  externals  of  oiu:  life  is — how  far  does  each 
thing  help  me  to  be  a  good  man  ?  How  far  does  it  open 
my  understanding  to  apprehend  Him  ?  How  far  does  it 
make  my  spirit  pliable  and  plastic  under  His  touch?    How 


lo  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE.  [SERM. 

far  does  it  make  me  capable  of  larger  reception  of  greater 
gifts  from  Himself?  What  is  its  effect  in  preparing  me 
for  that  world  beyond  ?  Is  there  any  other  greater,  more 
satisfying,  more  majestic  thought  of  life  than  this — the 
scaffolding  by  which  souls  are  built  up  into  the  temple  of 
God  !  And  to  care  whether  a  thing  is  painful  or  pleasant 
is  as  absurd  as  to  care  whether  the  bricklayer's  trowel  is 
knocking  the  sharp  corner  off  a  brick,  or  plastering  mortar 
on  the  one  below  it  before  he  lays  it  carefully  on  its  course. 
Is  the  building  getting  on  ?  That  is  the  one  question  that 
is  worth  thinking  about 

You  and  I  write  our  lives  as  if  on  one  of  those  mani- 
fold writers  which  you  use.  A  thin  filmy  sheet  herCy  a  bit 
of  black  paper  below  it ;  but  the  writing  goes  through 
upon  the  next  page,  and  when  the  blackness  that  divides 
two  worlds  is  swept  away  there^  the  history  of  each  life 
wTitten  by  ourselves  remains  legible  in  eternity.  And 
the  question  is — WTiat  sort  of  autobiography  are  we 
uTiting  for  the  revelation  of  that  day,  and  how  far  do  our 
circumstances  help  us  to  transcribe  fair  in  our  lives  the 
will  of  our  God  and  the  image  of  our  Redeemer  ? 

If,  then,  we  have  once  got  hold  of  that  principle  that 
all  which  is — summer  and  winter,  storm  and  sunshine, 
possession  and  loss,  memory  and  hope,  work  and  rest, 
and  all  the  other  antitheses  of  life — is  equally  the  product 
of  His  will,  equally  the  manifestation  of  His  mind, 
equally  His  means  for  our  discipline,  then  we  have  the 
amulet  and  talisman  which  will  preserve  us  from  the  fever 
of  desire  and  the  shivering  fits  of  anxiety  as  to  things 
which  perish.      And,  as  they  tell  of  a  Christian  father 


l]  the  christian  life,  II 

who,  riding  by  one  of  the  great  lakes  of  Switzerland  all 
day  long,  on  his  journey  to  the  Church  Council  that  was 
absorbing  his  thoughts,  said  towards  evening  to  the 
deacon  w^ho  was  pacing  beside  him,  "Where  is  the  lake?" 
so  you  and  I,  journeying  along  by  the  margin  of  this  great 
flood  of  things  when  wild  storms  sweep  across  it,  or  whei 
the  sunbeams  glint  upon  its  blue  waters  "and  birds  ol 
peace  sit  brooding  on  the  charmed  wave,"  shall  be  care- 
less of  the  changeful  sea,  if  the  eye  looks  beyond  the 
visible  and  beholds  the  unseen,  the  unchanging  real 
presences  that  make  glory  in  the  darkest  lives,  and  "sun- 
shine in  the  shady  place."  "  Let  every  man,  wherein  he 
is  called,  therein  abide  with  God." 

III.  Still  further,  another  thought  may  be  suggested 
from  these  words,  or  rather  from  the  connection  in  which 
they  occur,  and  that  is — Such  contented  continuance  in  our 
place  is  the  dictate  of  the  truest  wisdom. 

There  are  two  or  three  collateral  topics,  partly  sug- 
gested by  the  various  connections  in  which  this  com- 
mandment occurs  in  the  chapter,  from  which  I  draw  the 
few  remarks  I  have  to  make  now. 

And  the  first  point  I  would  suggest  is  that  very  old 
commonplace  one,  so  often  forgotten,  that  after  all, 
though  you  may  change  about  as  much  as  you  like,  there 
is  a  pretty  substantial  equipoise  and  identity  in  the 
amount  of  pain  and  pleasure  in  all  external  conditions 
The  total  length  of  day  and  night  all  the  year  round  is 
the  same  at  the  North  Pole  and  at  the  Equator — half  and 
half.  Only,  in  the  one  place,  it  is  half  and  half  for  four- 
and-twenty  hours  at  a  time,  and  in  the  other,  the  night 


I  a  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE,  [SERM. 

lasts  through  gloomy  months  of  winter,  and  the  day  is 
bright  for  unbroken  weeks  of  summer.  But,  when  you 
come  to  add  them  up  at  the  year's  end,  the  man  that 
shivers  in  the  ice,  and  the  man  that  pants  beneath  the 
beams  from  the  zenith,  have  had  the  same  length  of 
sunshine  and  of  darkness.  It  does  not  matter  much  at 
what  degrees  between  the  Equator  and  the  Pole  you  and 
I  live ;  when  the  thing  comes  to  be  made  up  we  shall  be 
all  pretty  much  upon  an  equality.  You  do  not  get  the 
happiness  of  the  rich  man  over  the  poor  one  by  multiply- 
ing twenty  shillings  a  week  by  as  many  figures  as  will 
suffice  to  make  it  up  to  ;£'io,ooo  a  year.  What  is  the 
use  of  such  eager  desires  to  change  our  condition,  when 
every  condition  has  disadvantages  attending  its  advantages 
as  certainly  as  a  shadow;  and  when  all  have  pretty 
nearly  the  same  quantity  of  the  raw  material  of  pain  and 
pleasure,  and  when  the  amount  of  either  actually  experi- 
enced by  us  depends  not  on  where  we  are,  but  on  what 
we  are  ? 

Then,  still  further,  there  is  another  consideration  to  be 
kept  in  mind  upon  which  I  do  not  enlarge,  as  what  I 
have  already  said  involves  it — namely,  whilst  the  portion 
of  external  pain  and  pleasure  summed  up  comes  pretty 
much  to  the  same  in  everybod/s  life,  any  condition  may 
yield  the  fruit  of  devout  fellowship  with  God. 

Another  very  remarkable  idea  suggested  by  a  part  of 
the  context  is — What  is  the  need  for  my  troublmg  my- 
self about  outM^ard  changes  w^hen  in  Christ  I  can  get 
all  the  peculiarities  which  make  any  given  position 
desirable  to  me?      For  instance,  hear  how  Paul  talks 


l]  the  christian  life,  13 

to  slaves  wanting  to  be  set  free  :  "  For  he  that  is  called 
in  the  Lord,  being  a  servant,  is  the  Lord's  freeman  :  like- 
wise also  he  that  is  called,  being  iitty  is  Christ's  servant." 
If  you  generalize  that  principle  it  comes  to  this,  that  in 
union  with  Jesus  Christ  we  possess,  by  our  fellowship 
with  Him,  the  peculiar  excellencies  and  blessings  that 
are  derivable  from  external  relations  of  every  sort.  To 
take  concrete  examples — if  a  man  is  a  slave,  he  may  be 
free  in  Christ.  If  free,  he  may  have  the  joy  of  utter 
submission  to  an  absolute  master  in  Christ.  If  you  and 
I  are  lonely,  we  may  feel  all  the  delights  of  society  by 
union  with  Him.  If  surrounded  and  distracted  by 
companionship,  and  seeking  for  seclusion,  we  may  get 
all  the  peace  of  perfect  privacy  in  fellowship  with  Him. 
If  we  are  rich,  and  sometimes  think  that  we  were  in  a 
position  of  less  temptation  if  we  were  poorer,  we  may 
find  all  the  blessings  for  which  we  sometimes  covet 
poverty  in  communion  with  Him.  If  we  are  poor,  and 
fancy  that,  if  we  had  a  little  more  just  to  lift  us  above 
the  grinding,  carking  care  of  to-day  and  the  anxiety  of 
to-morrow,  we  should  be  happier,  we  may  find  all  tran- 
quillity in  Him.  And  so  you  may  run  through  all  the 
variety  of  human  conditions,  and  say  to  yourself — What  is 
the  use  of  looking  for  blessings  flowing  from  them  from 
without  ?  Enough  for  us  if  we  grasp  that  Lord  who  is 
all  in  all,  and  will  give  us  in  peace  the  joy  of  conflict,  in 
conflict  the  calm  of  peace,  in  health  the  refinement  of 
sickness,  in  sickness  the  vigour  and  glow  of  health,  in 
memory  the  brightness  of  undying  hope,  in  hope  the 
calming  of  holy  memory,   in  wealth  the  lowliness  of 


14  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE,  ['^RM. 

poverty,  in  poverty  the  ease  of  wealth;  in  life  and  in 
death  being  all  and  more  than  all  that  dazzles  us  by  the 
false  gleam  of  created  brightness  ! 

And  so,  finally — a  remark  which  has  no  connection 
with  the  text  itself,  but  which  I  cannot  avoid  inserting 
here — I  want  you  to  think,  and  think  seriously,  of  the 
antagonism  and  diametrical  opposition  between  these 
principles  of  my  text  and  the  maxims  current  in  the 
world,  and  nowhere  more  so  than  in  this  city.  Our  text 
is  a  revolutionary  one.  It  is  dead  against  the  watch- 
words that  you  fathers  give  your  children — "push," 
"energy,"  "advancement,"  "get  on,  whatever  you  do." 
You  have  made  a  philosophy  of  it,  and  you  say  that  this 
restless  discontent  with  a  man's  present  position  and 
eager  desire  to  get  a  little  farther  ahead  in  the  scramble 
— that  that  underlies  much  modem  civilization  and  pro- 
gress, and  leads  to  the  diffusion  of  wealth  and  to  em- 
ployment for  the  working  classes,  and  to  mechanical 
inventions,  and  domestic  comforts,  and  I  don't  know 
what  besides.  You  have  made  a  religion  of  it ;  and  it 
is  thought  to  be  blasphemy  for  a  man  to  stand  up  and 
say — "  It  is  idolatry  1"  My  dear  brethren,  I  declare  I 
solemnly  believe  that,  if  I  were  to  go  on  to  the  Man- 
chester Exchange,  next  Tuesday,  and  stand  up  and  say — 
"  There  is  no  God,"  I  should  not  be  thought  half  such  a 
fool  as  if  I  were  to  go  and  say — "  Poverty  is  not  an  evil 
per  sey  and  men  do  not  come  into  this  world  to  get  on 
but  to  get  up — nearer  and  liker  to  God."  If  you,  by 
God's  grace,  lay  hold  of  this  principle  of  my  text,  and 
honestlv  resolve  to  work  it  out,  trusting  in  that  dear 


I.]  THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE.  1 5 

Lord  who  "  though  He  was  rich  yet  for  our  sakes  became 
poor,"  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hundred,  you  will 
have  to  make  up  your  minds  to  let  the  big  prizes  of  your 
trade  go  into  other  people's  hands  and  be  contented  to 
say — "  I  live  by  peaceful,  higli,  pure,  Christ-like 
thoughts."  "  He  that  needs  least,"  said  an  old  heathen, 
"is  nearest  the  gods;"  but  1  would  rather  modify  the 
statement  into,  "  He  that  needs  most,  and  knows  it,  is 
nearest  the  gods."  For  surely  Christ  is  nn  ;c;  than 
mammon  ;  and  a  spirit  nourished  by  calm  desires  and 
holy  thoughts  into  growing  virtues  and  increasing  Christ- 
hkeness  is  better  than  circumstances  ordered  to  our  will. 
in  the  whirl  of  which  we  have  lost  our  God.  "  In  every- 
thing by  prayer  and  sup{)lication,  with  thanksgiving, 
let  your  requests  be  made  known  to  God,  and  the 
peace  of  God  and  God  of  peace  shall  keep  your  beans 
and  minds  in  Christ  Jesua.^ 


SERMON    II. 


THE   BITTERNESS   AND   BLESSEDNESS  OF  THK 
BREVITY  OF  LIFE. 


Psalm  xxxix,  6,  la. 

Surely  every  man   walketh  in  a   vain  shew.     , 
stranger  with  thee,  and  a  sojourner,  as  all  my  fathers 

'^PHESE  two  sayings  are  two  different  ways  of  putting 
the  same  thing.  There  is  a  common  thought  under- 
lying both,  but  the  associations  with  which  that  common 
thought  is  connected  in  these  two  verses  are  distinctly 
different  The  one  is  bitter  and  sad — a  gloomy  half 
truth.  The  other,  out  of  the  very  same  fact,  draws 
blessedness  and  hope.  The  one  may  come  from  no 
higher  point  of  view  than  the  level  of  worldly  experience; 
the  other  is  a  truth  of  faith.  The  foFmer  is  at  best 
partial,  and  without  the  other  may  be  harmful ;  the  latter 
completes,  explains,  and  hallows  it. 

And  that  this  progress  and  variety  in  the  thought  is  the 
key  to  the  whole  psalm  is,  I  think,  obvious  to  any  one 
who  will  examine  it  with  care.  I  cannot  here  enter  on 
that  task  but  in  the  hastiest  fashion,  by  way  of  vindi- 
cating the  connection  which  I  trace  between  the  two 


THE  BREVriY  OF  LIFE, 


verses  of  our  text  The  psalmist  begins,  then,  with 
telling  how  at  some  time  recently  passed — in  conse 
quence  of  personal  calamity  not  very  clearly  defined,  but 
apparently  some  bodily  sickness  aggravated  by  mental 
sorrow  and  anxiety — he  was  struck  dumb  with  silence,  so 
that  he  held  his  peace  even  from  good.  In  that  state 
there  rose  within  him  many  sad  and  miserable  thoughts, 
which  at  last  force  their  way  through  his  locked  lips. 
They  shape  themselves  into  a  prayer,  which  is  more 
complaint  than  petition — and  which  is  absorbed  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  manifest  melancholy  facts  of  human 
life, — "  Thou  hast  made  my  days  as  an  handbreadth  ; 
and  mine  age  is  as  nothing  before  thee."  And  then,  as 
that  thought  dilates  and  sinks  deeper  into  his  soul,  he  looks 
out  upon  the  whole  race  of  man — and,  in  tones  of  bitter- 
ness and  hopelessness,  affirms  that  all  are  vanity,  shadows, 
disquieted  in  vain.  The  blank  hopelessness  of  such  a 
view  brings  him  to  a  standstill.  It  is  true — ^but  taken 
alone  is  too  dreadful  to  think  of.  "That  way  madness 
Hes," — so  he  breaks  short  off  his  almost  despairing 
thoughts,  and  with  a  swift  turning  away  of  his  mind  from 
the  do\vnward  gaze  into  blackness  that  was  beginning  to 
make  him  reel,  he  fixes  his  eyes  on  the  throne  above — 
"  And  now,  Lord,  what  wait  I  for  ?  my  hope  is  in  thee." 
These  words  form  the  turning  point  of  the  psalm.  After 
them,  the  former  thoughts  are  repeated,  but  with  what  a 
difference — made  by  looking  at  all  the  blackness  and 
sorrow,  both  personal  and  universal,  in  the  bright  light  of 
that  hope  which  streams  upon  the  most  lurid  masses  of 
opaque  cloud,  till  their  gloom  begins  to  glow  with  an 
3  B 


1 8  BITTERNESS  AND  BLESSEDNESS  OF    [SERM. 

inward  lustre,  and  softens  into  solemn  purples  and  reds. 
He  had  said,  "  I  was  dumb  with  silence — even  from 
good."  But  when  his  hope  is  in  God,  the  silence  changes 
its  character  and  becomes  resignation  and  submission. 
"  I  opened  not  my  mouth;  because  thou  didst  it."  The 
variety  of  human  life  and  its  transiency  is  not  less  plainly 
seen  than  before ;  but  in  the  light  of  that  hope  it  is  re- 
garded in  reference  to  God's  paternal  correction,  and  is 
seen  to  be  the  consequence,  not  of  a  defect  in  His  creative 
wisdom  or  love,  but  of  man's  sin.  "  Thou  with  rebukes 
dost  correct  man  for  iniquity."  That,  to  him  who 
waits  on  the  Lord,  is  the  reason  and  the  alleviation  of 
the  reiterated  conviction  "  every  man  is  vanity."  Not 
any  more  does  he  say  every  man  "  at  his  best  state,  "  or, 
as  it  might  be  more  accurately  ex])ressed,  "  even  when 
most  firmly  established," — for  the  man  who  is  established 
in  the  Lord  is  not  vanity,  but  only  the  man  wlio  founds 
his  being  on  the  fleeting  present.  Tlien,  things  being  so, 
life  being  thus  in  itself  and  apart  from  God  so  fleeting 
and  so  sad,  and  yet  a  hoi)e  that  brightens  it  like  sunshine 
through  an  April  shower — the  psalmist  rises  to  prayer,  in 
which  that  formerly  expressed  conviction  of  the  brevity  of 
life  is  reiterated,  with  the  addition  of  two  words  which 
changes  its  whole  aspect,  "  1  am  a  stranger  with  Thee'^ 
He  is  God's  guest  in  his  transient  life.  It  is  short,  like 
the  stay  of  a  foreigner  in  a  strange  land;  but  he  is  under 
the  care  of  the  King  of  the  Land — therefore  he  need  not 
fear  nor  sorrow.  Past  generations,  Abraham,  Isaac,  and 
Jacob — whose  names  God  "  is  not  ashamed  "  to  appeal  to 
in  His  own  solenm  designation  of  Himself — have  held  the 


II.]  THE  BREVITY  OF  LIFE,  19 

same  relation,  and  their  experience  has  sealed  His  faithful 
care  of  those  who  dwell  with  Him.  Therefore,  the  sadness 
is  sootiied,  and  the  vain  and  fleeting  life  of  earth  assumes  a 
new  api^earance — and  the  most  blessed  and  wisest  issue  of 
our  consciousness  of  frailty  and  insufficiency  is  the  fixing 
of  our  desires  and  hopes  on  Him  in  whose  house  we  may 
dwell  even  while  we  wander  to  and  fro,  and  in  whom  our 
Hfe  being  rooted  and  established  shall  not  be  vain,  howso- 
ever it  may  be  brief. 

If,  then,  we  follow  the  course  of  contemplation  thus 
traced  in  the  psalm,  we  have  these  three  points  brought 
before  us — first,  the  thought  of  life  common  to  both 
clauses ;  second,  the  gloomy,  aimless  hollowness  which 
that  thought  breathes  into  life  apart  from  God ;  third,  the 
blessedness  which  springs  from  the  same  thought  when 
we  look  at  it  in  connection  with  our  Father  in 
heaven. 

I.  Observe  the  very  forcible  expression  which  is  given 
here  to  the  thought  of  life  common  to  both  verses. 

"  Every  man  walketh  in  a  vain  show."  The  original 
is  even  more  striking  and  strong.  And  although  one 
does  not  like  altering  words  so  familiar  as  those  of  our 
translation,  which  have  sacredness  from  association  and  a 
melancholy  music  in  their  rhythm — still  it  is  worth  while  to 
note  that  the  force  of  the  expression  which  the  psalmist 
employs  is  correctly  given  in  the  margin,  "  in  an  image '' 
— or  "in  a  shadow."  The  phrase  sounds  singular  to  us,  but 
is  an  instance  of  a  common  enough  Hebrew  idiom,  and  is 
equivalent  to  saying — he  walks  in  the  character  or  likeness 
of  a  shadow,  or,  as  we  should  say,  he  walks  as  a  shadow. 


20  BITTERNESS  AND  BLESSEDNESS  OF    fSERM. 

That  is  to  say,  the  whole  outward  life  and  activity  of 
every  man  is  represented  as  fleeting  and  unsubstantial, 
like  the  reflection  of  a  cloud  which  darkens  leagues  of  the 
mountain's  side  in  a  moment,  and  "  ere  a  man  can  say, 
behold,"  is  gone  again  for  ever. 

Then,  look  at  the  other  image  employed  in  the  other 
clause  of  our  text  to  express  the  same  idea,  "  I  am  a 
stranger  and  a  sojourner,  as  all  my  fathers."  The  phrase 
has  a  history.  In  that  most  pathetic  narrative  of  an  old- 
world  sorrow  long  since  calmed  and  consoled,  when 
"Abraham  stood  up  from  before  his  dead,"  and  craved  a 
burying-place  for  his  Sarah  from  the  sons  of  Heth,  his 
first  plea  was,  "I  am  a  stranger  and  a  sojourner  with  you." 
In  his  lips  it  was  no  metaphor.  He  was  a  stranger,  a  visi- 
tor for  a  brief  time  to  an  alien  land  ;  he  was  a  sojourner, 
having  no  rights  of  inheritance,  but  settled  among  them 
for  a  while,  and,  though  dwelling  among  them,  not  adopted 
into  their  community.  He  was  a  foreigner,  not  naturalized. 
And  such  is  our  relation  to  all  this  visible  frame  of  things 
in  which  we  dwell  It  is  alien  to  us  ;  though  we  be  in  it, 
our  true  affinities  are  elsewhere  ;  though  we  be  in  it,  our 
stay  is  brief,  as  that  of  "a  wayfaring  man  that  turns  aside 
to  tarry  for  a  night" 

And  there  is  given  in  the  context  still  another  metaphor 
setting  forth  the  same  fact  in  that  dreary  generalization 
which  precedes  my  text,  "  Every  man  at  his  best  state" 
— or  as  the  word  means,  "  established," — with  his  roots 
most  firmly  struck  in  the  material  and  visible — "  is  only 
a  breath."  It  appears  for  a  moment,  curling  from  lip  and 
nostril  into  the  cold  morning  air,  and  vanishes  away.     So 


11.]  THE  BREVITY  OF  LIFE.  21 

then,  vaporous,   filmy  is  the  seeming  solid  fact  of  the 
most  stable  life. 

These  have  been  the  commonplaces  of  poets  and 
rhetoricians  and  moralists  in  all  time.  But  threadbare 
as  the  thought  is,  I  may  venture  to  dwell  on  it  for  a 
moment.  I  know  I  am  only  repeating  what  we  all 
believe  —and  all  forget.  It  is  never  too  late  to  preach 
commonplaces,  until  everybody  acts  on  them  as  well  as 
admits  them — and  this  old  familiar  truth  has  not  yet  got 
so  wrought  into  the  structure  of  our  lives  that  we  can 
afford  to  say  no  more  about  it. 

"  Surely  every  man  walketh  in  a  shadow."  Did  you 
ever  stand  upon  the  shore  on  some  day  of  that  "  uncer- 
tain weather,  when  gloom  and  glory  meet  together,"  and 
notice  how  swiftly  there  went,  racing  over  miles  of  billows, 
a  darkening  that  quenched  all  the  play  of  colour  in  the 
waves,  as  if  all  suddenly  the  angel  of  the  waters  had 
spread  his  broad  wings  between  sun  and  sea,  and  then 
how  in  another  moment  as  swiftly  it  flits  away,  and  with 
a  burst  the  light  blazes  out  again,  and  leagues  of  ocean 
flash  into  green  and  violet  and  blue.  So  fleeting,  so 
utterly  perishable  are  our  lives  for  all  their  seeming  solid 
permanency.  "Shadows  in  a  career,"  as  George  Herbert 
has  it — breath  going  out  of  the  nostrils.  We  think  of 
ourselves  as  ever  to  continue  in  our  present  posture.  We 
are  deceived  by  illusions.  Mental  indolence,  a  secret 
dislike  of  the  thought,  and  the  impostures  of  sense,  all 
conspire  to  make  us  blind  to,  or  at  least  oblivious  of,  the 
plain  fact  which  every  beat  of  our  pulses  might  preach, 
and  the  slow  creeping  hands  of  every  parish  clock  con- 


2  2  BITTERNESS  AND  BLESSEDNESS  OF    [SERM 

firm.  How  awful  that  silent,  unceasing  footfall  of  receding, 
days  is  when  once  we  begin  to  watch  it  !  Inexorable, 
passionless — though  hope  and  fear  may  pray,  "Sun,  stano 
thou  still  on  Gibeon;  and  thou  moon,  in  the  valley  o' 
Ajalon," — the  tramp  of  the  hours  goes  on.  The  poetr 
paint  them  as  a  linked  chorus  of  rosy  forms,  garlanded 
and  clasping  hands  as  they  dance  onwards.  So  they  may 
be  to  some  of  us  at  some  moments.  So  they  may  seerc 
as  they  approach ;  but  those  who  come  hold  the 
hands  of  those  who  go,  and  that  troop  has  no  rosy  light 
upon  their  limbs,  their  garlands  are  faded,  the  sunshine 
falls  not  upon  the  grey  and  shrouded  shapes,  as  they 
steal  ghostlike  through  the  gloom — and  ever  and  ever  the 
bright  and  laughing  sisters  pass  on  into  that  funereal 
band  which  grows  and  moves  away  from  us  unceasing. 
x\las  !  for  many  of  us  it  bears  away  with  it  our  lost  treas- 
ures, our  battered  hopes,  our  joys,  from  which  all  the 
bright  petals  have  dropped  !  Alas  !  for  many  of  us 
there  is  nothing  but  sorrow  in  watching  how  all  things 
become  "  part  and  parcel  of  the  dreadful  past" 

And  how  strangely  sometimes  even  a  material  as- 
sociation may  give  new  emphasis  to  that  old  threadbare 
truth.  Some  more  permanent  thing  may  help  us  to  feel 
more  profoundly  the  shadowy  fleetness  of  man.  The 
trifles  are  so  much  more  lasting  than  their  owners.  Or, 
as  "the  preacher"  puts  it,  with  such  wailing  pathos, 
"One  generation  passeth  away,  and  another  generation 
cometh,  but  the  earth  abideth  for  ever."  This  material 
is  perishable — but  yet  how  much  more  enduring  than  we 
are! 


W*]  THE   BREVITY  OF  LIFE.  23 

The  pavements  we  walk  upon,  the  coals  in  our  grates 
— how  many  millenniums  old  are  they?  The  pebble  you 
kick  aside  with  your  foot  —how  many  generations  will  it 
outlast?  Go  into  a  museum  and  you  will  see  hanging 
there,  little  the  worse  for  centuries,  battered  shields, 
notched  swords,  and  gaping  helmets — aye,  but  what  has 
become  of  the  bright  eyes  that  once  flashed  the  light  of 
battle  through  the  bars,  what  has  become  of  the  strong 
hands  that  once  gripped  the  hilts?  "The  knights  are 
dust,"  and  "their  good  swords  are"  not  "rust."  The 
material  lasts  after  its  o\vner.  Seed  com  is  found  in  a 
mummy  case.  The  poor  form  beneath  the  painted  lid  is 
brown  and  hard,  and  more  than  half  of  it  gone  to  pun- 
gent powder,  and  the  man  that  once  lived  has  faded 
utterly :  but  the  handful  of  seed  has  its  mysterious  life  in 
it,  and  when  it  is  sown,  in  due  time  the  green  blade 
pushes  above  English  soil,  as  it  would  have  done  under 
the  shadow  of  the  pyramids  four  thousand  years  ago — 
and  its  produce  waves  in  a  hundred  harvest  fields  to-day. 
The  money  in  your  purses  now,  wnll  some  of  it  bear  the 
head  of  a  king  that  died  half  a  century  ago.  It  is  bright 
and  useful — where  are  all  the  people  that  in  turn  said 
they  "owned"  it?  Other  men  will  live  in  our  houses, 
will  preach  from  this  pulpit,  and  sit  in  these  pews  when 
you  and  I  are  far  away.  And  other  June  days  will  come, 
and  the  old  rose  trees  will  flower  round  houses  where 
unborn  men  will  then  be  living,  when  the  present  pos- 
sessor is  gout;  lo  nourish  the  roots  of  the  roses  in  the 
graveyard ! 

"  Our  days  are  as  a  shadow,  and  there  is  none  abiding/ 


24  BITTERNESS  AND  BLESSEDNESS  OF    [SERM 

So  said  David  on  other  occasions.  We  know,  deai 
brethren,  how  true  it  is,  whether  we  consider  the  ceaseless 
rlux  and  change  of  things,  the  mystic  march  of  the  silent 
footed  hours,  or  the  greater  permanence  which  attaches 
to  the  "  things  which  perish,"  than  to  our  abode  among 
them.  We  know  it,  and  yet  how  hard  it  is  not  to  yield 
to  the  inducement  to  act  and  feel  as  if  all  this  painted 
scenery  were  solid  rock  and  mountain.  By  our  own 
inconsiderateness  and  sensuousness,  we  live  in  a  lie,  in  a 
false  dream  of  permanence,  and  so  in  a  sadder  sense  we 
walk  in  "a  vain  shew," — deluding  ourselves  with  the 
conceit  of  durability,  and  refusing  to  see  that  the  apparent 
is  the  shadowy,  and  the  one  enduring  reality  God.  It  is 
hard  to  get  even  the  general  conviction  viviied  in  men's 
minds,  hardest  of  all  to  get  any  man  to  reflect  upon  it  as 
applying  to  himself.  Do  not  think  that  you  have  said 
enough  to  vindicate  neglect  of  my  words  now,  when  you 
call  them  commonplace.  So  they  are.  But  did  you  ever 
take  that  well  worn  old  story,  and  press  it  on  your  own 
consciousness — ^as  a  man  might  press  a  common  little 
plant,  whose  juice  is  healing,  against  his  dim  eye-ball — 
by  saying  to  yourself,  "  It  is  true  of  me.  I  walk  as  a 
shadow.  /  am  gliding  onwards  to  my  doom.  Through 
my  slack  hands  the  golden  sands  are  flowing,  and  soon 
my  hour-glass  T^'ill  run  out,  and  /  shall  have  to  stop  and 
go  away."  Let  me  beseech  you  for  one  half  hour's 
meditation  on  that  fact  before  this  day  closes.  You  will 
forget  my  words  then,  when  with  your  own  eyes  you  have 
looked  upon  that  truth,  and  felt  that  it  is  not  merely  a 
toothless  commonplace,  but  belongs  to  and  works  in  T)iy 


II.]  THE  BREVITY  OF  LIFE,  25 

life, — as  it  ebbs  away  silently  and  incessantly  from 
Thee. 

II.  Let  me  point,  in  the  second  place,  to  the  gloom v 
aimless  hollowness  which  that  thought^  apart  from  God, 
infuses  into  life. 

There  is,  no  doubt,  a  double  idea  in  the  metaphor 
which  the  psalmist  employs.  He  desires  to  set  forth,  by 
his  image  of  a  shadow,  not  only  the  transiency,  but  the 
unsubstantialness  of  life.  Shadow  is  opposed  to  substance, 
to  that  which  is  real,  as  well  as  that  which  is  enduring. 
And  we  may  further  say  that  the  one  of  these  character 
istics  is  in  great  part  the  occasion  of  the  other.  Because 
life  is  fleeting,  therefore,  in  part,  it  is  so  hollow  and  un- 
satisfying. The  fact  that  men  are  dragged  away  from 
their  pursuits  so  inexorably  makes  these  pursuits  seem,  to 
any  one  who  cannot  see  beyond  that  fact,  trivdal  and  not 
worth  the  doing.  Why  should  we  fret  and  toil  and  break 
our  hearts,  "  and  scorn  delights,  and  live  laborious  days  " 
for  purposes  which  will  last  so  short  a  time,  and  things 
which  we  shall  so  soon  have  to  leave  ?  What  is  all  the 
bustle  and  business,  when  the  sad  light  of  that  thought 
falls  on  it,  but  "labouring  for  the  wmd  "?  "Were  it  not 
better  to  lie  still  ?"  Such  thoughts  have  at  least  a  partial 
truth  in  them,  and  are  difficult  to  meet  as  long  as  we 
think  only  of  the  facts  and  results  of  man's  life  that  we 
can  see  with  our  eyes.  And  our  psalm  gives  emphatic 
utterance  to  them.  The  word  rendered  "walketh"  in 
our  text  is  not  merely  a  synonym  for  passing  through  life, 
but  has  a  very  striking  meaning.  It  is  an  intensive  fre- 
quentative form  of  the  word — that  is,  it  represents  the 


26  BITTERNESS  AND  BLESSEDNESS  OF     [sERM. 

action  as  being  repealed  over  and  over  again.  For 
instance,  it  might  be  used  to  describe  the  restless  motion 
of  a  wild  beast  in  a  cage,  raging  from  side  to  side,  never 
still,  and  never  getting  any  farther  for  all  the  racing  back- 
ward and  forward.  So  here  it  signifies  *'  walketh  to  and 
fro,"  and  implies  hurry  and  bustle,  continuous  effort, 
habitual  unrest.  It  thus  comes  to  be  parallel  with  the 
stronger  words  which  follow — "Surely  they  are  disquieted 
in  vain;"  and  one  reason  why  all  this  effort  and  agitation 
are  purposeless  and  sad,  is  because  the  man  who  is 
straining  his  nerves  and  wearying  his  legs  is  but  a  shadow 
in  duration — "  He  heapeth  up  riches,  and  knoweth  not 
who  shall  gather  them." 

Yes  !  if  we  have  said  all,  when  we  have  said,  men  pass 
as  a  fleeting  shadow — if  my  life  has  no  roots  in  the  Eternal, 
nor  any  consciousness  of  a  life  that  does  not  pass,  and  a 
light  that  never  perishes — if  it  is  derived  from,  directed  to, 
"cribbed,  cabined,  and  confined"  within  this  visible 
diurnal  sphere—then  it  is  all  flat  and  unprofitable,  an 
illusion  while  it  seems  to  last,  and  all  its  pursuits  are 
folly,  its  hopes  dreams,  its  substances  vapours,  its  years  a 
lie.  For,  if  life  be  thus  short,  I  who  live  it  am  conscious 
of,  and  possess  whether  I  be  conscious  of  them  or  no, 
capacities  and  requirements  which,  though  they  were  to 
be  annihilated  to-morrow,  could  be  satisfied  while  they 
lasted  by  nothing  short  of  the  absolute  ideal,  the  all- 
perfect,  the  infinite — or,  to  put  away  abstractions,  "My 
soul  thirsteth  for  God,  the  living  God  !"  "  He  hath  put 
eternity  in  their  heart,"  as  the  book  of  Ecclesiastes  says. 
Longings  and  aspirations,  weaknesses  and  woes,  the  limits 


n.]  THE  BREVITY  OF  LIFE,  %1 

of  creature  helps  and  loves,  the  disproportion  between  us 
and  the  objects  around  us — all  these  facts  of  familiar  ex- 
perience do  witness,  alike  by  blank  misgivings  and  by 
bright  hopes,  by  many  disappointments  and  by  indestruc- 
tible expectations  surviving  them  all,  that  nothing  which 
has  a  date,  a  beginnmg,  or  an  end,  can  fill  our  souls  or 
give  us  rest.  Can  you  fill  up  the  swamps  of  the  Missis- 
sippi with  any  cart  loads  of  faggots  you  can  fling  in  ?  Can 
you  fill  your  souls  with  anything  which  belongs  to  this 
fleeting  life  ?  Has  a  flying  shadow  an  appreciable  thick- 
ness, or  will  a  million  of  them  pressed  together  occupy  a 
space  in  your  empty,  hungry  heart? 

And  so,  dear  brethren,  I  come  to  you  \\ith  a  message 
which  may  sound  gloomy,  and  beseech  you  to  give  heed 
to  it.  No  matter  how  you  may  get  on  in  the  world — 
though  you  may  fulfil  every  dream  with  which  you  began 
in  your  youth — you  will  certainly  find  that  without  Christ 
for  your  brother  and  saviour,  God  for  your  friend,  and 
heaven  for  your  hope,  life,  with  all  its  fulness,  is  empty. 
It  lasts  long,  too  long  as  it  sometimes  seems  for  work,  too 
long  for  hope,  too  long  for  endurance ;  long  enough  to 
make  love  die,  and  joys  wither  and  fade,  and  companions 
drop  away,  but  without  God  and  Christ,  you  wall  find  it  but 
as  a  watch  in  the  night.  At  no  moment  through  the  long 
weary  years  will  it  satisfy  your  whole  being;  and  when  the 
weary  years  are  all  past  it  will  seem  to  have  been  but  as 
one  troubled  moment  breaking  the  eternal  silence.  At 
every  point  so  profitless,  and  all  the  points  making  so 
thin  and  short  a  line  !  The  crested  waves  seem  heaped 
together  as  they  recede  from  the  eye  till  they  reach  the 


28  BITTERNESS  AND  BLESSEDNESS  OF    [SERM. 

horizon,  where  miles  of  storm  are  seen  but  as  a  line  of 
spray.  So  when  a  man  looks  back  upon  his  life,  if  it 
have  been  a  godless  one,  be  sure  of  this,  that  it  will  be  a 
dark  and  cheerless  retrospect  over  a  tossing  waste,  with 
a  white  rim  of  wandering  barren  foam  vexed  by  tempest, 
and  then,  if  not  before,  he  will  sadly  learn  how  he  has 
been  living  amidst  shadows,  and,  with  a  nature  that 
needs  God,  has  wasted  himself  upon  the  world.  "O  life, 
as  futile  then  as  frail."  "Surely,"  in  such  a  case,  "every 
man  walketh  in  a  vain  shew." 

III.  But  note,  finally,  how  our  other  text  in  its  significant 
words  gives  us  The  Blessedness  which  springs  from  this  safne 
thought  of  life  when  it  is  looked  at  in  connection  with  God. 

The  mere  conviction  of  the  brevity  and  hoUowness  of 
life  is  not  in  itself  a  religious  or  a  helpful  thought.  Its 
power  depends  upon  the  other  ideas  which  are  associated 
with  it  It  is  susceptible  of  the  most  opposite  appli- 
cations, and  may  tend  to  impel  conduct  in  exactly 
opposite  directions.  It  may  be  the  language  of  despair 
or  of  bright  hope.  It  may  be  the  bitter  creed  of  a  worn- 
out  debauchee,  who  has  wasted  his  life  in  hunting  shadows, 
md  is  left  with  a  cynical  spirit  and  a  bitter  tongue.  It 
may  be  the  passionless  belief  of  a  retired  student,  or  the 
fanatical  faith  of  a  religious  ascetic.  It  may  be  an  ar- 
gument for  sensuous  excess,  "  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for 
to-morrow  we  die  " ;  or  it  may  be  the  stimulus  for  noble 
and  holy  living,  "I  must  work  the  works  of  Him  that 
sent  me  while  it  is  day.  The  night  cometh."  The  con- 
nection in  which  it  is  held  determines  whether  it  shall  be 
a  blight  or  a  blessing  to  a  man. 


il]  the  brevity  of  life,  29 

And  the  one  addition  which  is  needed  to  incline  the 
whole  weight  of  that  conviction  to  the  better  side,  and  to 
light  up  all  its  blackness,  is  that  little  phrase  in  this  text, 
"  I  am  a  stranger  with  Thee,  and  a  sojourner."  There 
seems  to  be  an  allusion  here  to  the  remarkable  words 
connected  with  the  singular  Jewish  institution  of  the 
Jubilee.  You  remember  that  by  the  Mosaic  law,  there 
was  no  absolute  sale  of  land  in  Israel,  but  that  every  half 
century  the  whole  returned  to  the  descendants  of  the 
original  occupiers.  Important  economical  and  social  pur- 
poses were  contemplated  in  this  arrangement,  as  well  as 
the  preservation  of  the  relative  position  of  the  tribes  as 
settled  at  the  conquest  But  the  law  itself  assigns  a 
purely  religious  purpose — the  preservation  of  the  distinct 
consciousness  of  the  tenure  on  which  the  people  held 
their  territory,  namely,  obedience  to  and  dependence  on 
God.  "  The  land  shall  not  be  sold  for  ever,  for  the  land 
is  mine,  for  ye  are  strangers  and  sojourners  with  meJ*  Of 
course,  there  was  a  special  sense  in  which  that  was  true 
with  regard  to  Israel,  but  David  thought  that  the  words 
were  as  true  i»  regard  to  his  whole  relation  of  God, 
as  in  regard  to  Israel's  possession  of  its  national  inheri- 
tance. 

If  we  grasp  rfiese  words  as  completing  all  that  we  have 
already  said,  how  different  this  transient  and  unsubstantial 
life  looks.  You  must  have  the  light  from  both  sides  to 
ftteieesrope  and  make  solid  the  flat  smface  picture.  Tran- 
Ker.t  I  yes — but  it  is  passed  in  the  presence  of  God 
Whether  we  know  it  or  no,  our  brief  days  hang  upon 
Him,  and  we  walk,  all  of  us,  in  the  light  of  His  counten- 


30  BITTERNESS  AND  BLESSEDNESS  OF     [SERM. 

ance.  That  makes  the  transient  eternal,  the  shadowy 
substantial,  the  trivial  heavy  with  solemn  meaning  and 
awful  yet  vast  possibilities.  "  In  our  embers  is  some- 
thing that  doth  live."  If  we  had  said  all,  when  we  say 
"  We  are  as  a  shadow,"  it  would  matter  very  little,  though 
even  then  it  would  matter  something,  how  we  spent  our 
shadowy  days  ;  but  if  these  poor  brief  hours  are  spent  in 
the  great  "Taskmaster's  eye," — if  the  shadow  cast  on 
earth  proclaims  a  light  in  the  heavens — if  from  this  point 
there  hangs  an  unending  chain  of  conscious  being — oh, 
then,  with  what  a\vful  solemnity  is  the  brevity,  with  what 
tremendous  magnitude  is  the  minuteness,  of  our  earthly 
days  invested  !  "  With  Thee  " — then  I  am  constantly  in 
the  presence  of  a  sovereign  Law  and  its  Giver ;  "  with 
Thee " — then  all  my  actions  are  registered  and  weighed 
yonder;  "with  Thee"— then  "Thou,  God,  seest  me." 
Brethren,  it  is  the  prismatic  halo  and  ring  of  eternity 
round  this  poor  glass  of  time  that  gives  it  all  its  dignity, 
all  its  meaning.  The  Hves  that  are  lived  before  God  can- 
not be  trifles. 

And  if  this  relation  to  time  be  recognised  and  accepted 
and  held  fast  by  our  hearts  and  minds,  then  what  calm 
blessedness  will  flow  into  our  souls  ! 

"  A  stranger  with  Thee," — then  we  are  the  guests  of  the 
King.  The  Lord  of  the  land  charges  Himself  with  our 
protection  and  provision ;  we  journey  under  His  safe 
conduct.  It  is  for  His  honour  and  faithfulness  that  no 
harm  shall  come  to  us  travelling  in  His  territory,  and  re- 
lying on  His  word.  Like  Abraham  with  the  sons  of  Heth, 
we  may  claim  the  protection  and  help  which  a  stranger 


II. J  THE  BREVITY  OF  LIFE.  31 

needs.  He  recognises  the  bond  and  will  fulfil  it.  We 
have  eaten  of  His  salt,  and  He  will  answer  for  our  safety 
— "  He  that  touchelh  you  toucheth  the  apple  of  mine 
eye." 

'*A  stranger  with  Thee," — then  we  have  a  constant 
companion  and  an  abiding  presence.  We  may  be  solitar) 
and  necessarily  remote  from  the  polity  of  the  land.  We 
may  feel  amid  all  the  visible  things  of  earth  as  if  foreigners. 
Wt;  may  not  have  a  foot  of  soil,  not  even  a  grave  for  oui 
dead.  Companionships  may  dissolve  and  warm  hands 
grow  cold  and  their  close  clasp  relax — what  then  ?  Ht 
is  with  us  still.  He  will  join  us  as  we  journey,  even  when 
our  hearts  are  sore  with  loss.  He  will  walk  with  us  by 
the  way,  and  make  our  chill  hearts  glow.  He  will  sit  with 
us  at  the  table — however  humble  the  meal,  and  He  will 
not  leave  us  when  we  discern  Him.  Strangers  we  are  in- 
deed here — but  not  solitary,  for  we  are  "  strangers  with 
Thee."  As  in  some  ancestral  home  in  which  a  family  has 
lived  for  centuries — son  after  father  has  rested  in  these 
great  chambers,  and  been  safe  behind  the  strong  walls — so, 
age  after  age,  they  who  love  Him  abide  in  God. — "  Thou 
hast  been  our  dwelling-place  in  all  generations." 

"Strangers  with  Thee,"— then  we  may  carry  our 
thoughts  forward  to  the  time  when  we  shall  go  to  our 
true  home,  nor  wander  any  longer  in  the  land  that  is  not 
ours.  If  even  here  we  come  into  such  blessed  relation- 
ship with  God,  that  fact  is  in  itself  a  prophecy  of  a  more 
perfect  communion  and  a  heavenly  house.  They  who 
are  strangers  with  Him  will  one  day  be  at  "home  with 
the  lx)rd."     And  in  the  light  of  that  blessed  hope  the 


32  THE  BREVITY  OF  LIFE. 

transiency  of  this  life  changes  its  whole  aspect,  loses  the 
last  trace  of  sadness,  and  becomes  a  solemn  joy.  Why 
should  we  be  pensive  and  wistful  when  we  think  how 
near  our  end  is  ?  Is  the  sentry  sad  as  the  hour  for  re- 
lieving guard  comes  nigh?  Is  the  wanderer  m  far-off 
lands  sad  when  he  turns  his  face  homewards  ?  And  why 
should  not  we  rejoice  at  the  thought  that  we,  strangers 
and  foreigners  here,  shall  soon  depart  to  the  true  metro- 
polis, the  mother-countr}'  of  our  souls  ?  I  do  not  know 
why  a  man  should  be  either  regretful  or  afraid,  as  he 
watches  the  hungry  sea  eating  away  this  "bank  and  shoal 
of  time"  upon  which  he  stands — even  though  the  tide  has 
all  but  reached  his  feet — if  he  knows  that  God's  strong 
hand  will  be  stretched  forth  to  him  at  the  moment  when 
the  sand  dissolves  from  under  him,  and  will  draw  him 
out  of  many  waters,  and  place  him  high  above  the  floods 
in  that  stable  land  where  there  is  "  no  more  sea." 

Lives  rooted  in  God  through  faith  in  Jesus  Christ  are 
not  vanity.  Let  us  lay  hold  of  Him  with  a  loving  grasp 
— and  "  we  shall  live  also  "  because  He  lives,  as  He  lives, 
so  long  as  He  lives.  The  brief  days  of  earth  will  be 
blessed  while  they  last,  and  fruitful  of  what  shall  never 
pass.  We  shall  have  Him  with  us  while  we  journey — 
and  all  our  joumeyings  wall  lead  to  rest  in  Him.  True, 
men  walk  in  a  vain  shew;  true,  "the  world  passeth 
away  and  the  lust  thereof," — but,  blessed  be  God  I  true, 
also,   "He  that  doeth  the  will   of   God    abideth  fox 


SERMON    III. 

THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON. 


John  Tiii,  35, 

And  the  servant  abideth  not  in  the  house  {<x  ever  t  bat  the  Son 
abideth  ever. 

T  MUST  first  ask  your  attention  to  a  remark  or  two  on 
what  I  conceive  to  be  the  force  and  connection  of 
this  passage.  There  is  nothing  in  the  words  themselves 
requiring  explanation  or  illustration.  They  are  simple 
and  plain  enough;  but  their  bearing  on  what  precedes 
and  follows,  and  the  application  which  they  were  intended 
to  have,  present  very  considerable  difficulty. 

"The  servant  abideth  not  in  the  house  for  ever:  but 
the  Son  abideth  ever."  This  at  least  is  clear,  that  our 
Lord  is  speaking  of  servant  and  son  generically,  or  in 
other  words,  is  drawing  a  contrast  between  the  two 
relations,  wherever  they  are  found,  in  the  matter  of  per- 
manence. A  son  is  a  natural,  inalienable  part  of  the 
family,  whatever  the  family  may  be ;  a  slave  is  not  He 
may  be  acquired,  he  may  be  sold,  or  given  away  to 
another  master,  or  set  free.  In  Jewish  servitude — with 
which  Christ's  hearers  were  chiefly  familiar — there  was 

3  c 


34  THE  SERVAN r  AND  THE  SON,  [SERM. 

special  provision  against  the  slave's  continuing  "in  the 
house  for  ever."  At  the  Jubilee,  unless  he  voluntarily 
elected  to  give  himself  up  in  perpetuity  to  his  master  (so 
passing  from  a  state  of  involuntary  slavery  to  one  of 
willing  consecration,  which  ceased  thereby  to  be  bondage) 
— in  token  whereof  he  had  his  ear  fastened  to  the  door 
post  with  an  awl  through  it — he  was  free  to  depart  where 
he  liked.  But  a  son  is  bound  to  his  father's  household 
by  a  tie  which  no  distance  breaks,  and  no  time  wears  away. 

Then  comes  the  question,  what  application  does  Christ 
mean  to  be  made  of  this  general  truth  about  the  charac- 
teristic difference  between  service  and  sonship?  The 
common  answer  seems  to  me  to  be  very  unsatisfactory. 
It  is,  in  brief,  this — that  the  servants  who  abide  not  in 
the  house  for  ever  are  the  Jews  who,  because  they 
regarded  themselves  as  bound  to  God  only  by  the  harsh 
bond  of  constrained  obedience,  and  were  slaves,  not  sons 
at  heart,  would  certainly  forfeit  their  special  national 
privileges,  and  be  cast  out  of  the  house — the  land  of 
Israel  or  the  old  covenant.  According  to  that  interpre- 
tation, the  general  statement  would  in  effect  be  made 
special  by  inserting  "  of  God "  in  the  clause,  and  would 
mean  substantially  this — he  who  is  only  an  unwilling 
servant — a  slave — of  God's,  has  no  permanent  place  in 
the  household  of  God. 

But  you  should  observe  that,  in  the  previous  verse,  the 
master  of  the  servant  is  distinctly  specified — "he  that 
committeth  sin  is  the  slave  of  siti.'^  And  it  is  a  mo^i 
violent  and  sudden  twist  of  the  connection  to  make  it 
turn  away  all  at  once  from  speaking  of  slaves  of  sin  to 


III.]  THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON.  35 

speak  of  slaves  of  God.  Notice,  too,  that  both  clauses 
of  our  text,  the  former  as  well  as  the  latter,  are  laid  as 
the  double  grounds  on  which  the  conclusion  reposes — "  If 
the  Son,  therefore,  shall  make  you  free,  ye  shall  be  free 
indeed."  Keeping  these  two  things  in  view,  it  seems  im- 
possible to  accept  the  ordinary  explanation  of  the  words, 
which  wrenches  them  forcibly  apart  from  the  preceding 
verse,  and  disconnects  them  from  the  conclusion  which 
our  Lord  founds  on  them  in  the  subsequent  verse,  whilst 
it  brings  in  a  wholly  irrelevant  thought  about  the  Jews 
being  turned  out  of  Canaan,  because  they  were  slaves  and 
not  sons  of  God. 

Supposing,  then,  that  whilst  the  words  speak  about  ser- 
vants and  sons  generically,  laying  down  a  general 
principle  that  applies  to  the  whole  of  the  two  classes, 
the  immediate  application  is  meant  to  be  to  the  slaves  of 
sin,  of  whom  He  has  just  been  speaking,  would  the 
words  so  referred  yield  an  appropriate  and  adequate 
sense  ?  What  would  be  the  force  of  the  thought — Sin's 
slave  does  not  abide  for  ever  in  Sin's  house  ?  Would  it 
not  be  the  declaration  of  the  great  truth  that,  howsoever 
hard  and  long  the  bondage  and  servitude  of  sin  had 
been,  yet  the  very  relation  itself  is  of  such  a  character 
that  it  needs  not  to  be  perpetual,  but  bears  upon  its  front 
the  hope  that  one  day  the  captive  may  come  out  of  the 
prison-house  and  shake  himself  loose  from  his  connection 
with  this  t>Tant's  household,  of  which  he  has  become  a 
part?  However  long  and  weary  the  years  of  bondage, 
the  slave  is  not  in  his  true  home,  nor  incorporated  hope- 
lessly into  his  taskmaster's  family.     There  is  no  natural 


36  THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON,  [SERM. 

affinity  between  him  and  his  lord ;  but  only  a  bond 
which  may  be  snapped  at  any  moment,  if  one  can  be 
found  strong  enough  to  "enter  the  strong  man's  house, 
and  spoil  his  goods."  The  saying,  then,  may  be  regarded 
as  stating  the  possibility  of  emancipation  as  contained 
in  the  very  nature  of  the  bondage. 

The  next  clause  goes  on  to  declare  that  into  the  midst 
of  this  tyrant's  household  there  has  come  one  who  is  a 
Son,  and  abides  for  ever,  by  natural  immutable  relation- 
ship, in  the  household  of  God.  It  is  clear  that  the  first 
application  of  the  general  statement,  that  a  son  is  for 
ever  part  of  his  father's  family,  must  be  to  Christ.  It  is 
therefore  clear  that  the  house  in  which  He  abides  is  the 
house  of  God.  Sin's  house,  in  so  far  as  that  expression 
denotes  this  fair  world,  belongs  to  God ;  and  the  tyranny 
which  that  grim  despot  wields  is  usurpation.  Into  the 
midst  of  human  society  He  comes  who  is  a  Son  for  ever, 
and  for  ever  dwells  with  the  Father ;  and  by  reason  of 
His  everlasting  Sonship  and  abode  with  God,  He  is  able 
to  convert  the  possibility  of  deliverance,  which  the  very 
nature  of  the  bondage  proclaims,  into  actual  fact,  and  to  set 
us  free.  The  slave  need  not  abide  for  ever — there  is  hope. 
"  The  Son  abides  ever  " — there  is  hope  still  brighter. 

And  on  both  facts  reposes  the  grand  certainty — "If 
the  Son  therefore  shall  make  you  free,  ye  shall  be  free 
indeed."  If  He  have  the  ^vill,  as  He  has  the  power — if  it 
shall  be  that  He  will  really  use  his  unquestionable 
prerogative  for  the  purpose  for  which  men,  with  eyes  dim 
with  tears  and  hearts  torn  by  desperate  hopes,  long 
through  a  thousand  generations — then  ye  shall  be  free 


iil]  the  servant  and  the  son.  37 

indeed  Nor,  in  that  case,  will  bare  freedom  only  be  ours, 
but,  as  is  implied  by  the  antithesis  of  our  text,  emancipation 
will  be  adoption,  and  to  pass  out  of  the  state  of  the  slave  is 
to  pass  into  the  alternative  relation — the  state  of  a  soil 

I  have  thus  put  briefly,  but  as  far  as  I  can  see  fairly, 
the  sequence  of  thought  which  our  Lord  would  here 
bring  before  us ;  and  I  would  ask  you  to  consider 
whether,  so  understood,  the  words  do  not  hold  together 
better,  and  yield  a  more  consistent  and  impressive 
meaning  than  in  the  usual  interpretation  of  them.  Let 
me  briefly  try  to  expand  a  little  further  the  principles 
which  are  thus  set  forth. 

I.  There  is  first  The  Possible  Ending  of  the  Tyranny  of 
Sin.  "  A  slave  abides  not  in  the  house  for  ever."  There- 
fore the  very  fact  that  the  service  of  sin  is  so  hard  a 
slavery  shows  it  to  be  unnatural,  abnormal,  and  capable 
of  a  termination-  All  the  world  has  dimly  hoped  that  it 
was  so,  if  not  from  love  of  good,  at  all  events  from  weari- 
ness of  evil,  and  from  pain  of  conscience.  But  no  man 
has  been  sure  of  it,  apart  from  the  influence  of  revelation. 
It  is  Christ  alone  who  makes  us  sure  that  this  universal 
condition  is  yet  an  unnatural  one,  from  which  restoration 
is  possible  for  us  all.  He  alone  shows  us  that  the  black 
walls  of  the  prison-house  where  we  toil,  solid  seeming 
though  they  be,  high  above  our  power  to  scale,  and 
clammy  with  the  sighs  of  a  thousand  generations,  are 
undermined  and  tottering.     Deliverance  is  possible. 

For,  in  the  light  of  God's  revelation,  we  see  that  the 
slave-master  is  an  usurper.  Sin  is  clearly  not  natural  to 
man,  as  God  meant  him  to  be,  howsoever  it  may  seem  to 


38  THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON,  [SERM. 

have  entwined  itself  around  his  life.  It  is  something 
supervening,  not  original ;  a  deformity,  not  a  part  of  the 
ideal  which  God  made  him  by. 

The  most  superficial  glance  at  our  own  nature  and 
condition,  the  constitution  of  our  being,  our  capacities  or 
relations,  is  enough  to  show  that  The  witnesses  are 
wathin  us.  Look  at  these  minds  of  ours  that  can  origi- 
nate and  entertain  "  thoughts  whose  very  sweetness 
yieldeth  proof  that  they  were  bom  for  immortality,"  at 
those  hearts  with  their  rich  treasures  of  transcendant 
affections  wasted,  as  some  drunken  spendthrift  throws 
handfuls  of  gold  among  a  ragged  mob;  at  these  \vills  so 
weak  and  yet  so  strong,  ever  craving  for  some  absolute 
authority  to  guide  them,  and  yet  ever  impotently  trying 
to  be  "a  law  unto  themselves;"  at  these  consciences,  so 
sensitive  and  yet  so  dull,  waking  up  only  when  the  evil 
is  done,  like  careless  warders  who  lock  the  prison  doors 
with  all  safety  after  the  prisoner  has  fled,  powerless  to 
prevent  but  strong  to  avenge — voices  which  have  no 
means  of  getting  their  behests  obeyed,  and  yet  are  the 
echo  of  the  supreme,  personal  Lawgiver's  voice.  Think  of 
the  manifest  disproportion  between  ourselves  as  we  are, 
and  as  we  know  we  might  be ;  remember  that  in  this  region 
might  and  ought  are  the  same.  And  then  say  whether  this 
universal  condition  of  sinfulness  is  not  plainly  and  in  the 
deepest  sense  of  the  word — unnatural;  a  fungus,  not  a  true 
growth ;  a  monstrosity  or  abnormal  development;  a  dis- 
eased excrescence  or  wen,  and  not  sound,  healthy  flesh. 

Then,  if  so,  it  b  clear  that  there  is  no  such  relation 
between  a  sinful  man  and  his  sin  as  that  deliverance  from 


m.]  THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON.  39 

it  is  impossible.  It  must  be  possible  to  part  them,  and 
to  leave  the  man  stronger  for  the  loss  of  what  made  him 
weak,  and  more  himself  by  the  plucking  off  him  of  the 
venomous  beast  that  has  fastened  upon  his  life.  Some- 
how or  other  it  must  be  possible  to  separate  me  from  my 
sin,  to  cast  that  behind  His  back  into  the  depths  of  the 
sea,  and  to  set  me  before  His  face  in  light  and  love.  If 
we  are  slaves  of  sin,  then  we  may  be  transferred  from 
that  household  and  brought  to  our  true  home  in  our 
Father's  house.  Here,  then,  is  the  blessed  hope  for  us 
all.  Howsoever  the  fetters  may  have  galled  and  mortified 
the  limbs  and  eaten  into  the  stiffened  wrists,  they  may  be 
struck  off.  No  man  is  condemned  to  a  hopeless  neces- 
sary continuance  in  evil.  We  may  have  been  living  all 
our  days  in  it,  and,  so  far  as  in  us  lies,  may  have  corrupted 
and  perverted  our  whole  nature.  Be  it  so.  Still  the  foul 
thing  has  not  become  so  intertwined  with  our  life  that  it 
cannot  be  wrenched  away.  No  matter  what  we  are,  for 
all  there  is  a  possibility  of  deliverance.  For  criminals 
below  the  gallows  with  the  rope  around  their  necks,  for 
tliose  who  have  gone  farthest  into  the  far  country  of  for- 
getfulness  of  God,  and  there  have  wasted  themselves  in 
riotous  living—aye,  and  for  those  who  are  harder  to  touch 
and  more  hopeless  than  publicans  and  harlots — the  sleek, 
orthodox,  respectable  Scribes  and  Pharisees,  the  church 
and  chapel  going  people,  saturated  with  the  form  of  religion 
and  uninfluenced  by  its  power — for  all,  freedom  is  possible. 
And  let  me  remind  you  that  men  have  always 
cherished  those  convictions ;  even  when  they  seemed  to 
have  the  least  reason  for  them,  have  cherished  them 


40  THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON.  [SERM 

obstinately  in  spite  of  history  and  of  experience.  The} 
have  tried  to  set  themselves  free,  and  their  attempts  have 
come  to  nothing  ;  and  yet,  after  all  failures,  this  hope  has 
sprung  immortal  in  the  human  breast.  People  who  have 
tried  in  vain  to  cure  themselves  of  some  awkward  habit, 
some  peculiarity  of  manner,  some  intonation  of  voice, 
yet  believe  that  somehow  or  other  there  is  a  power  fit  to 
break  from  them  all  the  chains  of  evil  and  to  set  them 
free.  Strange,  is  it  not  ?  Pathetic,  tragic,  except  on  one 
hypothesis.  I  know  few  things  sadder — unless  we 
believe  in  Christ,  the  Deliverer,  as  I  hope  most  of  us  do 
— than  that  indestructible  hope  with  which  a  thousand 
sinful  generations  have  lived  and  died  ^^^thout  its  fulfil- 
ment. What  countless  unfulfilled  aspirations,  what 
baffled  trust,  what  gleams  of  light  that  faded  and  seemed 
treacherous  as  the  morning  red  that  dies  into  rainy  grey 
before  the  day  is  old  !  And  are  the  noblest  visions,  then, 
the  falsest  ?  and  are  we  to  believe  the  bitter  creed  that 
smiles  sadly  at  these  as  airy  dreams  ?  or  is  it  true — as  the 
v/orld  has  believed,  though  it  knew  not  how  its  hope  was 
to  be  fulfilled — that  the  t>Tanny  which  has  ruled  the 
earth  and  built  high  the  black  walls  of  its  prison- 
house  round  all  humanity  is,  after  all,  a  usurpation  which 
had  a  beginning  later  than  man,  and  will  have  an  end  ? 

True,  we  cannot  make  the  division  between  ourselves 
and  our  sin,  nor  effect  the  deliverance.  It  is  like  some 
cancer — a  blood  disease.  We  may  pare  and  cut  away^ 
the  rotting  flesh — the  single  manifestations  of  the  evil  we 
can  do  something  to  reduce.  But  the  source  of  these  is 
floating  through  the  veins,  and  comes  pulsing  from  the 


III.]  THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON.  41 

heart.  A  deeper  cure  than  our  surgery  is  needed,  a 
transfusion  of  fresh  blood  from  an  untainted  source.  Sin 
is  not  our  personality,  and  so  we  may  have  it  removed 
and  live.  But  sin  has  become  so  entwined  with  ourselves 
that  we  cannot  undo  the  tangled  mass.  The  demoniac 
in  the  gospels — who  in  his  confused  consciousness  did  not 
know  which  was  devil  and  which  was  man,  and  when 
the  question  was  put,  "What  is  thy  name?"  gave  the 
awful  answer,  which  blends  so  strangely  the  voice  of 
both,  "  My  name  is  legion,  for  we  are  many  " — he  could 
not  shake  off  the  demon  that  rode  him.  No  more  can  we. 
And  yet  it  can  be  dragged  from  its  lair.  Rending  and 
tearing,  convulsions  and  foaming,  wounds  and  semi-death 
may  accompany  the  separation.  Better  these  than  "  the 
strong  man  armed,  keeping  his  goods  in  peace."  The 
voice  that  said,  "Thou  foul  spirit,  I  charge  thee  come 
out  of  him,"  has  power  stilL 

^Vhence  come  these  hopes,  cherished  in  spite  of  all 
failures?  They  are  like  morning  dreams  which  the 
proverb  tells  us  are  true.  Their  fulfilment  is  made 
probable  by  the  very  fact  of  their  existence ;  for  "  God 
never  sends  mouths,  but  He  sends  meat  to  feed  them." 
Their  fulfilment  lies  in  Him  who  fulfils  the  "  unconscious 
prophecies "  and  the  conscious  cravings  of  heathendom 
and  humanity — even  in  the  Christ  who  is  all  that  the 
world  wants,  and  more  than  all  that  we  or  our  brethren 
have  dared  to  hope. 

So  much  then  for  the  first  idea,  contained  in  these 
words — that  of  the  possibility,  inherent  in  the  very  nature  of 
the  case,  of  emancipation  from  the  burden  and  bondage 


42  THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON.  [SERM. 

of  sin.  The  next  verse  goes  on  to  declare  how  this 
possibility  is  converted  into  fact.     So  we  have — 

II.  The  Actual  Deliverer.  The  servant  need  not  abide 
for  ever  ;  but  is  there  any  one  who  will  take  him  out  of 
the  unnatural  state  of  slavery  ?  The  relationship  is  capa- 
ble of  being  terminated,  if  there  is  anybody  who  will 
terminate  it.  And  the  question  whether  there  be,  is 
ans',\ered in  these  words,  " The  Son  abideth  ever,"  which, 
while  they  are  primarily  a  general  statement,  applying  to 
all  sons  as  such,  have  unquestionably  a  specific  reference 
to  our  Lord  himself.  That,  I  presume,  is  clear  from  the 
fact  that  there  is  founded  on  them,  with  a  "therefore,"  to 
bind  it  firmly  to  them,  the  grand  conclusion,  "  If  the  Son 
make  you  free,  ye  shall  be  free  indeed." 

Motice,  too,  that  if  the  contrasted  statements  of  our 
text  are  to  be  so  put  together  as  to  give  ground  for  that 
joyous  certainty  of  true  freedom  as  the  Son's  gift,  then 
somehow  or  other  the  two  houses  must  be  the  same;  or  at 
least,  the  Son  who  is  ever  in  His  Father's  house  must  yet, 
while  thus  abiding,  also  be  in  the  midst  of  the  bondsmen 
in  the  dark  fortress  of  the  tyrant.  That  is  but  a  figurative 
way  of  putting  the  necessity  which  even  our  consciences 
and  hearts,  made  wise  by  bitter  experience  of  failure, 
can  discern — that  our  freedom  from  sin  must  come  from 
a  power  beyond  the  circle  of  humanity,  and  yet  must  be 
diffused  from  a  source  within  the  circle.  Unless  it  come 
firom  above  it  will  not  be  able  to  lift  us  out  of  the  pit  of 
the  prison-house ;  but  unless  it  be  on  our  level  we  shall 
not  be  able  to  grasp  it.  The  Deliverer  must  Himself  be 
free;  therefore  He  must  be  removed  from  the  fatal  con- 


IILI  THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON.  43 

xwi  \  'ity  of  evil,  which,  like  a  lengthened  chain,  shackles  all 
the  prisoners  together.  The  Deliverer  must  be  like  those 
wliom  He  would  help,  and  be  a  sharer  in  their  condition. 
The  contradictory  requirements  are  harmonized  in  One, 
of  whom  it  was  spoken  long  ago,  "  He  hath  anointed  me 
to  proclaim  liberty  to  the  captives;"  and  who  has  Himself 
chimed  to  unite  them  both  in  His  o\vti  person:  "No 
m?  n  hath  ascended  up  to  heaven  but  he  that  came  down 
fn  m  heaven,  even  the  Son  of  Man  which  is  in  heaven." 
H  ■?  is  truly  one  of  us,  the  very  perfection  of  humanity ; 
th »  whole  essential  characteristics  of  manhood  are  in 
H'm.  He  has  come  down  from  heaven,  entered  the 
pj  son-house,  become  one  of  the  company  of  slaves — 
ar  d  yet  all  the  while  "  is  in  heaven,"  abiding  in  that  true 
ajid  unbroken  fellowship  with  God  of  which  He  testified 
when  He  said,  "  The  Father  hath  not  left  me  alone."  He 
is  the  Son  of  Man  which  came  down  from  heaven,  and  He 
is  "  the  only  begotten  Son  which  is  in  the  bosom  of  the 
Father."    Therefore  is  He  the  Deliverer  of  His  brethren. 

The  conversion,  then,  of  the  mere  possibility  of  free- 
dom into  actual  fact  requires  two  things — that  the 
Deliverer  should  be  the  Son  of  God  and  that  He 
should  be  the  Son  for  ever.  If  we  are  ever,  dear 
friends,  to  be  rescued  from  the  iron  grip  of  this 
miserable  bondage,  it  must  be  by  one  who  wields  and 
brings,  and  is  the  energy,  and  the  wisdom,  and  the  all- 
besto^ving  love  of  the  Father.  It  must  be  by  one  who  is 
a  Son  in  that  full  emphatic  sense  of  perfect  kindred  in, 
and  participation  of,  the  boundless  Godhead  which  none 
other  possesses.     None  less  mighty  has  the  power,  none 


44  THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON  [SERM 

less  patient  has  the  love,  which  such  a  task  needs.     It 
must  be  The  Son  who  sets  us  free. 

And  so  I  come  to  you  with  that  living  central  truth  of 
the  Gospel,  and  beseech  you,  dear  brethren,  to  lay  to  heart 
the  solemn  fact  of  our  need,  and  the  blessed  answer  to  it 
which  is  given  to  us  all  in  Christ.  "  Such  an  high  priest 
became  us."  He  and  his  work  are  in  accurate  corre- 
spondence with  our  wants.  There  is  no  deliverance 
possible  from  this  clinging  curse  of  corruption  unless  there 
have  come  into  the  very  midst  of  us  bondsmen,  one  who 
shares  our  nature  but  does  not  share  our  sin,  who  is 
above  us  and  yet  beside  us,  who  is  separate  from  sinners 
and  yet  cleaveth  closer  than  a  brother  to  the  most  polluted, 
whose  hands  are  pure  and  yet  whose  heart  is  so  tender 
that  He  will  lay  His  hand  unshrinking  on  leprosy  and 
death,  who  is  on  all  points  like  ourselves  and  yet  is  un- 
fettered by  the  chains  under  which  we  groan  and  die. 
And  this  impossible  combination  we  have,  blessed  be 
God,  in  that  dear  Lord.  Christ  is  the  Son  of  God  and 
the  brother  of  every  man.  There  is  the  life,  fontal  not 
derived,  divine  that  it  may  be  human ;  there  is  manhood 
unstained  by  sin,  having  no  affinity  with  evil,  and  in  its 
completeness  a  living  protest  against  the  lie  that  sin  is  an 
integral  part  of  human  nature,  and  a  prophecy  that  we  too 
may  be  like  Him,  set  free  from  bondage  and  perfected 
in  glory.  "  God  sent  forth  his  Son,  made  of  a  woman, 
made  under  the  law,  to  redeem  them  that  were  under  the 
law,  that  we  might  receive  the  adoption  of  sons."  Yes  I 
a  Son  will  set  free,  none  other  will !  Yes  !  the  Son  has 
set  free    We  need  none  other. 


ni.]  THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON.  45 

Further,  our  Lord  puts  emphasis  here  on  the  perpetual 
ibiding  of  the  Son,  as  a  part  of  the  basis  of  His  fitness  for 
jhe  mighty  work.  We  and  all  men  to  the  end  of  time 
have  to  trust  to  a  living  Saviour,  who  is  as  near  to  the 
latest  generations  as  He  was  to  those  that  gathered  round 
His  cross  on  earth.  Nay,  we  may  even  say  that  He  is 
nearer  to  save  and  fuller  of  power  to  bless,  not  indeed  in 
Himself,  but  in  our  apprehensions  of  His  nearness  and  ful- 
ness which  should  be  deepened  by  all  that  has  passed 
since  He  ascended  up  on  high.  Have  not  the  might  of 
His  work  and  the  majesty  of  His  person  gained  fresh 
illustrations  from  the  experience  of  all  these  centuries? 
As  distance  has  paled  other  lights,  and  hidden  lower  watch 
towers  below  the  horizon,  have  we  not  learned  thereby  to 
estimate  more  truly  the  brightness  of  the  one  undying 
flame  which  bums  across  the  waste  nor  knows  diminution 
by  space  nor  extinction  by  time,  and  to  measure  more 
accurately  the  height  of  that  rallying  point  for  the  nations 
which  towers  higher  and  higher  as  we  recede  from  it? 
Surely,  if  we  will  faithfully  use  the  inspired  record,  the 
Indwelling  Spirit,  the  voice  of  our  own  experience,  and 
the  history  of  God's  church,  we  may  come,  by  reason 
of  the  very  lapse  of  ages,  and  all  which  they  have 
brought  of  testing  and  of  triumph,  to  apprehend  yet  more 
of  the  fulness  of  Christ's  freedom  than  was  possible  at 
first     *'  It  is  expedient  for  you   that  I  go  away." 

Nor  is  this  all;  for  the  Son  who  bids  us  rejoice,  both  for 
His  sake  and  ours,  that  He  goes  to  the  Father,  was  with 
the  Fatlier  while  He  walked  on  earth,  and  is  with  us  while 
He  ij  OD  the  throne  of  God     He  abideth  ever  by  our 


46  THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON.  [SERM. 

sides  to  bless  and  set  free.  He  carries  on  our  deliverance 
by  the  present  forth-putting  of  His  love  and  power,  even 
as  He  effected  it  by  his  Cross.  "  This  man,  because  he 
continueth  ever,  is  able  to  save  unto  the  uttermost."  We 
have  an  ever-living  Saviour  to  trust  to.  "  The  Son  abideth 
for  ever."  "  If  he  therefore  make  us  free,  we  shall  be  free 
mdeed.* 

III.  Then,  finally,  we  may  very  briefly  touch  upon  the 
thought  that  is  implied  here  and  in  the  whole  context — 
namely,  The  Abiding  Sons  hip  which  const  it  u  ies  the  Slavis 
Emaftcipation. 

The  process  of  deliverance  is  the  transfer  froiii  i.  e  c  le 
household  to  the  other.  We  are  set  free  from  our  bond- 
age when,  through  Christ,  we  receive  the  adoption,  and 
"cry,  Abba,  Father !"  This  filial  spirit,  the  spirit  of  life 
which  was  in  Christ,  and  this  alone,  "  makes  us  free  from 
the  law  of  sin  and  death."  The  only  way  by  which  a 
man  is  reclaimed  from  obedience  to  sin  is  by  his  learning 
to  call  God  Father,  and  by  receiving  into  his  evil  nature 
the  life,  kindred  with  the  paternal  source,  which  owns  no 
allegiance  to  his  fonner  taskmaster.  The  only  way  by 
which  a  man  receives  that  new  life  from  God  that 
has  nothing  to  do  with  sin,  and  that  consciousness  of 
kindred  with  God  which  makes  the  name  "Father" 
natural  to  his  heart,  is  by  simple  faith  in  Christ,  who 
gives  power  to  become  sons  of  God  to  as  many  as  re- 
ceive Him. 

There  are  but  two  conditions  in  which  we  can  stand. 
One  or  other  of  them  must  be  ours.  The  alternatives 
are — Slaves  of  Sin,  or  Sons  of  God     What  a  contrast 


III.]  THE  SERVANT  AND  THE  SON.  47 

both  in  the  relation  and  in  that  to  which  it  is  sustained  ? 
Slaves  or  Sons  1  God  or  Sin  !  On  the  one  side  tyran- 
nous bondage,  on  the  other  gentle  swaying  love.  On 
the  one  side  the  whip  and  the  lash,  on  the  other,  "  My 
son,  hear  the  instruction  of  thy  Father."  On  the  one 
side  is  such  a  Master,  to  obey  whom  is  degradation,  and 
like  all  base-born  usurpers,  cruel  as  lawless.  What  a 
wretched  humiliation  for  a  man  with  such  a  nature  to  be 
the  serf  of  such  a  Lord — to  be,  as  Milton  says,  "  the  de- 
jected and  down-trodden  vassal  of  Perdition  ! "  On  the 
other  side  is  the  source  of  all  love,  the  fruition  of  all 
desires,  the  fountain  of  all  purity  and  all  peace.  And  we, 
dear  brethren,  may,  through  Christ,  draw  near  to  Him  as 
sons  and  "cry,  Abba,  Father!"  Then  we  shall  abide  in 
His  house  for  ever,  in  the  happy  consciousness  of  His 
Fatherhood  and  love,  compassed  by  His  care,  and  en- 
riched by  His  gifts,  and  glad  to  serve,  and  blessed  in 
obedience.  Earth's  changes  will  not  take  us  away  from 
our  rest  in  God,  nor  its  distractions  rob  us  of  the  sweet- 
ness of  kindred  with  Him.  Whithersoever  we  go  we 
may  still  be  at  home  with  God ;  whatsoever  we  do  we 
may  still  be  about  our  Father's  business.  Death  itself 
shall  not  break  the  sonship,  nor  our  consciousness  of  it. 
We  shall  but  pass  from  the  outer  to  the  inner  abiding 
place  in  our  Father's  house,  the  place  prepared  for  us  by 
The  Son,  who  set  us  free.  "Thou  art  no  more  a  servant, 
but  a  son."  And  if  sons,  then  "heirs,  heirs  of  God  and 
joint  heirs  with  Christ** 


SERMON    IV. 

THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD. 


Psalm  advi,  4--7. 

There  is  a  river,  the  streams  whereof  shall  make  glad  the  dty  of 
God,  the  holy  place  of  the  tabernacles  of  the  most  High,  God  U  in 
the  midst  of  her  ;  she  shall  not  be  moved  :  God  shall  help  her,  and 
that  right  early.  The  heathen  raged,  the  kingdoms  were  moved  t 
he  uttered  his  voice,  the  earth  melted.  The  Lord  of  hosts  U  with 
us  ;  the  God  of  Jacob  is  our  reftige. 

"T^HERE  are  two  remarkable  events  in  the  history  of 
Israel,  one  or  the  other  of  which  most  probably  sup- 
plied the  historical  basis  upon  which  this  psalm  rests. 
One  is  that  singular  deliverance  of  the  armies  of  Jehosha- 
phat  from  the  attacking  forces  of  the  bordering  nations, 
which  is  recorded  in  the  twentieth  chapter  of  the  Book 
of  Chronicles.  There  you  will  find  that,  by  a  singular 
arrangement,  the  sons  of  Korah^  members  of  the  priestly 
order,  were  not  only  in  the  van  of  the  battle,  but  cele- 
brated the  victory  by  hymns  of  gladness.  It  is  possible 
that  this  may  be  one  of  those  hymns  \  but  I  think  rather 
that  the  more  ordinary  reference  is  the  correct  one,  which 
sees  in  this  psalm  and  in  the  two  succeeding,  the  echoei 


THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD,  49 


of  that  supernatural  deliverance  of  Israel  in  the  time  of 
Hezekiah,  when 

"  The  Assyrian  came  down  like  a  wolf  on  the  fold," 
and  Sennacherib  and  all  his  army  were,  by  the  blast  from 
the  breath  of  His  nostrils,  swept  into  swift  destruction. 

The  reasons  of  that  historical  application  maybe  briefly 
stated.  We  find,  for  instance,  a  number  of  remarkable 
correspondences  between  each  psalm  and  portions  of  the 
Book  of  the  prophet  Isaiah,  who,  as  we  know,  lived  in  the 
period  of  that  deliverance.  The  comparison,  for  example, 
which  is  here  drawn  with  such  lofty,  poetic  force  between 
the  quiet  river  which  makes  glad  the  city  of  God,  and  the 
tumultuous  billows  of  the  troubled  sea,  which  shakes  the 
mountain  and  moves  the  earth,  is  drawn  by  Isaiah  in  re- 
gard to  the  Ass)rrian  invasion,  when  he  speaks  of  "  Israel 
refusing  the  waters  of  Shiloah,"  which  go  softly,  and, 
therefore,  having  brought  upon  them  the  waters  of  the 
river — the  power  of  Assyria — "  whicli  shall  fill  the  breadth 
of  thy  land,  O  ImmanueL" 

Notice,  too,  that  the  very  same  consolation  which  was 
given  to  Isaiah,  by  the  revelation  of  that  significant  appel- 
lation, "  Immanuel,  God  with  us,"  appears  in  this  psalm  as 
a  kind  of  refrain,  and  is  the  foundation  of  all  its  confident 
gladness,  "  The  Lord  of  Hosts  is  with  us." 

Besides  these  obvious  paralleUsms,  there  are  others  to 
which  I  need  not  refer,  which,  taken  altogether,  seem  to 
render  it  at  least  probable  that  we  have  in  this  psalm  the 
devotional  echo  of  the  great  deliverance  of  Israel  from 
A.ssyria  in  the  time  of  Hezekiah. 

Now,  these  verses  are  the  cardinal  centnl  portion  of  the 

a 


50  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD,         [SERM. 

3ung.  We  may  call  them  The  Hymn  of  the  Defence  and 
Deliverance  of  the  City  of  God.  We  cannot  expect  to  find 
in  poetr}'  the  same  kind  of  logical  accuracy  in  the  process 
of  thought  which  we  require  in  treatises ;  but  the  lofty 
amotion  of  devout  song  obeys  laws  of  its  own  :  and  it  is 
^-ell  to  surrender  ourselves  to  the  flow,  and  to  try  to  see 
with  the  psalmist's  eyes  for  a  moment  his  sources  of 
consolation  and  strength. 

1  take  the  four  points  which  seem  to  be  the  main  turn- 
ing points  of  these  verses — first,  the  gladdening  river; 
second,  the  indwelling  helper ;  third,  the  conquering 
voice  ;  and  fourth,  the  alliance  of  ourselves  by  faith  with 
tlie  safe  dwellers  in  the  city  of  God. 

I.  First,  we  have  the  gladdening  River — an  emblem  of 
many  great  and  joyous  truths. 

The  figure  is  occasioned  by,  or  at  all  events  derives 
much  of  its  significance  from  a  geographical  peculiarity 
of  Jerusalem.  Alone  among  the  great  cities  and  histori- 
( al  centres  of  the  world,  it  stood  upon  no  broad  river. 
One  little  perennial  stream,  or  rather  rill  of  living  water, 
was  all  which  it  had ;  but  Siloam  was  mightier  and  more 
blessed  for  the  dwellers  in  the  rocky  fortress  of  the  Jebu- 
sites  than  the  Euphrates,  Nile,  or  Tiber  for  the  historical 
cities  which  stood  upon  their  banks.  One  can  see  the 
psalmist  looking  over  the  plain  east^vard,  and  beholding 
in  vision  the  mighty  forces  which  came  against  them, 
symbolized  and  expressed  by  the  breadth  and  depth  and 
swiftness  of  the  great  river  upon  which  Nineveh  sat  as  a 
jueen,  and  then  thinking  upon  the  little  tiny  thread  of 
ivmg  water  tliat  flowed  past  the  batfe  of  the  rock  upon 


!▼.]  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD,  5 


fc-hich  the  temple  was  perched.  It  seems  small  and  im 
cons[>iciious — nothing  comj)ared  to  the  dash  of  the  waves 
and  the  rise  of  the  floods  of  those  mighty  secular 
empires,  still,  "There  is  a  river  the  streams  whereof 
shall  make  glad  the  city  of  God."  Its  waters  shall 
never  fail,  and  thirst  shall  flee  whithersoever  this  river 
comes. 

It  is  also  to  be  remembered  that  the  psalm  is  running 
in  the  track  of  a  certain  constant  symbolism  that  pervades 
all  Scripture.  From  the  first  book  of  Genesis  down  to 
the  last  chapter  of  Revelation,  you  can  hear  the  dashing 
of  the  waters  of  the  river.  "  It  went  out  from  the  garden 
and  i)arted  into  four  heads."  "  Thou  makest  them  drink 
of  the  river  of  thy  pleasures."  "Behold,  waters  issued 
out  from  under  the  threshold  of  the  house  eastward,"  and 
ever)''thing  shall  live  whithersoever  the  river  cometh. 
"  He  that  believeth  on  me,  out  of  his  belly  shall  flow 
rivers  of  living  water."  "  And  he  shewed  me  a  pure  river 
of  water  of  life,  clear  as  crystal,  proceeding  out  of  the 
throne  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb."  Isaiah,  who  has 
already  afforded  some  remarkable  parallels  to  the  words 
of  our  psalm,  gives  another  verj'  striking  one  to  the  image 
now  under  consideration,  when  he  says,  "The  glorious 
Lord  will  be  unto  us  a  place  of  broad  rivers  and  streams, 
wherein  shall  go  no  galley  with  oars."  The  picture  in 
that  metaphor  is  of  a  stream  lying  round  Jerusalem,  like 
the  moated  rivers  which  girdle  some  of  the  cities  in  the 
plains  of  Italy,  and  are  the  defence  of  those  who  dwell 
enclosed  in  their  flashing  links. 

Guided,  then,  by  the  physical  peculiarity  of  situation 


5*  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD.         [SERiL 

which  I  have  referred  to,  and  by-  the  constant  meaning  of 
scriptural  symbolism,  I  think  we  must  conclude  that  this 
river,  "  the  streams  whereof  make  glad  the  city  of  God," 
is  God  himself  in  the  outflow  and  self-communication  of 
His  own  grace  to  the  souL  The  stream  is  the  fountain 
in  flow.  The  gift  of  God,  which  is  living  water,  is  God 
himself,  considered  as  the  ever-imparting  source  of  all 
refreshment,  of  all  strength,  of  all  blessedness.  "This 
spake  he  of  the  Spirit,  which  they  that  believe  should 
receive." 

We  must  dwell  for  a  moment  or  two  still  further  upon 
these  words,  and  mark  how  this  metaphor,  in  a  most 
simple  and  natural  way,  sets  forth  very  grand  and  blessed 
spiritual  truths  with  regard  to  this  communication  of 
God's  grace  to  them  that  love  Him  and  trust  Him. 
First,  I  think  we  may  see  here  a  very  beautiful  suggestion 
of  the  manner^  and  then  of  the  variety ^  and  then  of  the 
effects  of  that  communication  of  the  Divine  love  and 
grace. 

The  manner.  We  have  only  to  read  the  previous 
verses  to  see  what  I  mean.  "God  is  our  refuge  and 
strength,  a  very  present  help  in  trouble.  Therefore  will 
not  we  fear,  though  the  earth  be  removed,  and  though  the 
mountains  be  carried  into  the  midst  of  the  sea ;  though 
the  waters  thereof  roar  and  be  troubled,  though  the 
mountains  shake  with  the  swelling  thereof."  There  you 
can  hear  the  wild  waves  dashing  round  the  base  of  the 
firm  hills,  sapping  their  strength,  and  toppling  their 
crests  down  in  the  bubbling,  yeasty  foam.  Remember  how, 
v:>t  only  in  Scripture  but  in  all  poetry,  the  sea  has  been 


IV.]  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD.  53 

the  emblem  of  endless  unrest  Its  waters,  those  barren, 
wandering  fields  of  foam,  going  moaning  round  the  world 
with  unprofitable  labour,  how  they  have  been  the  emblem 
of  unbridled  power ;  of  tumult  and  strife,  and  anarchy  and 
rebellion!  Then  mark  how  our  text  brings  into  sharpest 
contrast  with  all  that  hurly-burly  of  the  tempest,  and  the 
dash  and  roar  of  the  troubled  waters,  the  gentle,  quiet 
flow  of  the  river,  "  the  streams  whereof  make  glad  the  city 
of  God ; "  the  translucent  little  ripples  purling  along  beds 
of  golden  pebbles,  and  the  enamelled  meadows  drinking 
the  pure  stream  as  it  steals  by  them.  Thus,  says  our 
psalm,  not  with  noise,  not  with  tumult,  not  with  con- 
spicuous and  destructive  energy,  but  in  silent,  secret 
underground  communication,  God's  grace,  God's  love, 
His  peace.  His  power.  His  Almighty  and  gentle  Self  flow 
into  men's  souls.  Quietness  and  confidence  on  our  sides 
correspond  to  the  quietness  and  serenity  with  which  He 
glides  into  the  heart.  Instead  of  all  the  noise  of  the  sea 
you  have  within  the  quiet  impartations  of  the  voice  that 
is  still  and  small,  wherein  God  dwells.  The  extremest 
power  is  silent  The  mightiest  force  in  all  the  universe 
is  the  force  which  has  neither  speech  nor  language.  The 
parent  of  all  physical  force,  as  astronomists  seem  to  be 
more  and  more  teaching  us,  is  the  great  central  Sun 
which  moveth  all  things,  which  operates  all  physical 
changes,  whose  beams  are  all  but  omnipotent,  and  yet 
fall  so  quietly  that  they  do  not  disturb  the  motes  that 
dance  in  the  rays.  Thunder  and  lightning  are  child's 
play  compared  with  the  energy  that  goes  to  make  the 
falling  dews  and  quiet  rains.     The  power  of  the  sunshine 


54  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD.  [SERM. 

is  the  root  power  of  all  force  which  works  in  material 
things.  And  so  we  turn,  with  the  symbol  in  our  hands, 
to  the  throne  of  God,  and  when  He  says,  "  Not  by  might 
nor  by  power,  but  by  my  Spirit,"  we  are  aware  of  an 
energy,  the  signature  of  whose  might  is  its  quietness, 
which  is  omnipotent  because  it  is  gentle  and  silent  The 
seas  may  roar  and  be  troubled,  the  tiny  thread  of  the 
river  is  mightier  than  they  all. 

And  then,  still  further,  in  this  first  part  of  our  text  there 
is  also  set  forth  very  distinctly  the  number  and  the  variety 
of  the  gifts  of  God.  "The  streams  whereof,"  literally, 
"  the  divisions  whereof."  That  is  to  say,  going  back  to 
Eastern  manners,  the  broad  river  is  broken  up  into  canals 
that  are  led  off  into  every  man's  little  bit  of  garden  ground ; 
coming  down  to  modem  manners,  the  great  reservoir 
goes  by  pipes  into  every  man's  household  and  chamber. 
The  stream  has  its  divisions ;  listen  to  words  that  are  a 
commentary  upon  the  meaning  of  this  verse,  "  All  these 
worketh  that  one  and  the  self-same  spirit,  dividing  unto 
every  man  severally  as  he  will " — an  infinite  variety,  an 
endless  diversity,  according  to  all  the  petty  wants  of  each 
that  is  supplied  thereby.  As  you  can  take  and  divide  the 
water  all  but  infinitely,  and  it  will  take  the  shape  of  every 
containing  vessel,  so  into  every  soul  according  to  its 
capacities,  according  to  its  shape,  according  to  its  needs, 
this  great  gift,  this  blessed  presence  of  the  God  of  our 
strength  shall  come.  The  varieties  of  His  gifts  are  as 
much  the  mark  of  His  omnipotence  as  the  gentleness  and 
stillness  of  theuL 

And  then  I  need  only  touch  upon  the  last  thought,  the 


rv.J  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD,  55 

effects  of  this  communicated  God  "  The  streams  make 
glad" — with  the  gladness  which  comes  from  refreshment, 
with  the  gladness  that  comes  from  the  satisfying  of  all 
thirsty  desires,  with  the  gladness  which  comes  from  the 
contact  of  the  spirit  with  absolute  completeness ;  of  the 
will,  with  perfect  authority  ;  of  the  heart,  with  changeless 
love;  of  the  understanding,  with  pure  incarnate  truth;  of 
the  conscience,  with  infinite  peace ;  of  the  child,  with  the 
father;  of  my  emptiness,  with  His  fulness  ;  ofmychange- 
ableness,  with  His  immutability ;  of  my  incompleteness, 
with  His  perfectness.  They  to  whom  this  stream  passes 
shall  know  no  thirst ;  they  who  possess  it  from  them  it 
shall  come.  Out  of  him  '-'shall  flow  rivers  of  Hving 
waters."  That  all-sufficient  spirit  not  only  becomes  to 
its  possessor  the  source  of  individual  refreshment,  and 
slakes  his  own  thirst,  but  flows  out  from  him  for  the 
gladdening  of  others. 

*'  The  least  flower,  with  a  brimming  cup  may  stand, 
And  share  its  dew-drop  with  another  near." 

The  city  thus  supplied  may  laugh  at  besieging  hosts. 
^Vith  the  deep  reservoir  in  its  central  fortress,  the  foe  may 
do  as  they  list  to  all  surface  streams ;  its  water  shall  be 
sure,  and  no  raging  thirst  shall  ever  drive  it  to  surrender. 
The  river  breaks  from  the  threshold  of  the  temple  within 
its  walls,  and  when  all  beyond  that  safe  enclosure  is 
cracked  and  parched  in  the  fierce  heat,  and  no  green 
thing  can  be  seen  in  the  dry  and  thirsty  land,  that  stream 
shall  make  glad  the  city  of  our  God,  and  everything  shall 
live  whithersoever  the  river  cometh.  "  Thou  shalt  be  as  a 
well -watered  garden,  and  as  a  river  whose  streams  fail  not." 


$6  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD.         [SERM. 

II.  Then  notice,  secondly,  substantially  the  same 
general  thought,  but  modified  and  put  in  plain  words — 
thf  indwelimg  Helper. 

"  God  is  in  the  midst  of  her,  she  shall  not  be  moved : 
God  shall  help  her,  and  that  right  early."  Or,  as  the 
latter  clause  had  better  be  translated,  as  it  is  given  in  the 
margin  of  some  of  our  Bibles,  "  God  shall  help  her  at  the 
appearance  of  the  morning."  There  are  two  things  then. 
First  of  all,  the  constant  presence;  and  second,  help  at  the 
right  time.  Whether  there  be  actual  help  or  no,  there  i« 
always  with  us  the  potential  help  of  God,  and  it  flashes 
into  energy  at  the  moment  that  He  knows  to  be  the 
right  one.  The  appearing  of  the  morning  He  determines; 
not  you  or  I.  Therefore,  we  may  be  confident  that  ever 
we  have  God  by  our  sides.  Not  that  that  presence 
is  meant  to  avert  outward  or  inward  trouble  and  trial, 
and  painfullness  and  weariness ;  but  in  the  midst  of  these, 
and  while  they  last,  here  is  the  assurance,  "  She  shall  not 
be  moved;"  and  that  it  will  not  always  last,  here  is  the 
ground  of  the  confidence,  "  God  shall  help  her  when  the 
morning  dawns." 

I  need  not  point  out  to  you  the  contrast  here  between 
the  tranquillity  of  the  city  which  has  for  its  central  inhabi- 
tant and  Governor  the  omnipotent  God,  and  the  tumult 
of  all  that  turbulent  earth.  The  waves  of  the  troubled 
waters  break  everywhere, — they  run  over  the  flat  plains 
and  sweep  over  the  mountains  of  secular  strength  and 
outward  might,  and  worldly  kingdoms,  and  human  poli- 
ties and  earthly  institutions,  acting  on  them  all  either  by 
slow  corrosive  action  at  the  base,  or  by  the  tossing  floods 


IV.]  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD.  57 

swirling  against  them,  until  they  shall  be  lost  in  the  ocean 
of  time.  For  **  the  history  of  the  world  is  the  judgment 
of  the  world."  When  He  wills  the  plains  are  covered  and 
mountains  disappear,  but  one  rock  stands  fast — "The 
mountain  of  the  Lord's  house  is  exalted  above  the  top  of 
the  mountains ;"  and  when  everything  is  rocking  and 
swaying  in  the  tempests,  here  is  fixity  and  tranquillity. 
She  shall  not  be  moved.  Why?  Because  of  her  citi- 
zens ?  No  !  Because  of  her  guards  and  gates  ?  No  ! 
Because  of  her  polity  ?  No  !  Because  of  her  orthodoxy  ? 
No  I  But  because  God  is  m  her,  and  she  is  safe,  and 
where  He  dwells  no  evil  can  come.  "  Thou  earnest 
Caesar  and  his  fortunes."  The  ship  of  Christ  carries  the 
Lord  and  His  fortune ;  and,  therefore,  whatsoever  be- 
comes of  the  other  little  ships  in  the  wild  dash  of  the 
tempest,  this  with  the  Lord  on  board  arrives  at  its 
desired  haven — "  God  is  in  the  midst  of  her,  she  shall 
not  be  moved.** 

Then,  still  further,  that  presence  which  is  always  the 
pledge  of  stability,  and  unmoved  calm,  even  while  causes 
of  agitation  are  storming  around,  will,  as  I  said,  flash 
into  energy,  and  be  a  helper  and  a  deliverer  at  the  right 
moment  And  when  will  that  right  moment  be  ?  At  the 
appearing  of  the  morning.  "  And  when  they  arose  early 
in  the  morning,  they  were  all  dead  corpses;"  in  the 
hour  of  greatest  extremity,  but  ere  the  foe  has  executed 
his  purposes;  not  too  soon  for  fear  and  faith,  not  too 
late  for  hope  and  help;  when  the  mommg  dawns, 
when  the  appointed  hour  of  deliverance,  which  He  alone 
determines,  has  struck.     "  It  is  not  for  you  to  know  the 


58  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD,         [SERM. 

times  and  seasons;"  but  this  we  may  know,  that  He  who 
is  the  Lord  of  time  will  ever  save  at  the  best  possible 
moment  He  will  not  come  so  quickly  as  to  prevent  us 
from  feeling  our  need ;  He  will  not  tarry  so  long  as  to 
make  us  sick  with  hope  deferred,  or  so  long  as  to  let  the 
enemy  fulfil  his  purposes  of  destruction. 

"  Lord,  behold,  he  whom  thou  lovest  is  sick.  Now 
Jesus  loved  Martha,  and  her  sister,  and  Lazarus.  When 
he  had  heard  therefore  that  he  was  sick,  he  abode  two 
days  still  in  the  same  place  where  he  was  .  .  . 
Lord,  if  thou  hadst  been  here,  my  brother  had  not  died. 
Jesus  saith  unto  her,  Thy  brother  shall  rise  again.  .  .  . 
And  he  that  was  dead  came  forth." 

The  Lord  may  seem  to  sleep  on  his  hard  wooden 
pillow  in  the  stem  of  the  little  fishing  boat,  and  even 
while  the  frail  craft  begins  to  fill  may  show  no  sign  of 
help.  But  ere  the  waves  have  rolled  over  her,  the  cry  of 
fear  that  yet  trusts,  and  of  trust  that  yet  fears,  wakes  Him 
who  knew  the  need,  even  while  He  seemed  to  slumber, 
and  one  mighty  word,  as  of  a  master  to  some  petulant 
slave,  "  Peace  !  be  still,"  hushes  the  confusion,  and  re- 
bukes the  fear,  and  rewards  the  faith. 

"The  Lord  is  in  the  midst  of  her" — that  is 
the  perennial  fact  "The  Lord  shall  help  her,  and 
that  right  early" — that  is  the  "grace  for  seasonable 
help." 

III.  The  psalm  having  set  forth  these  broad  grounds 
of  confidence,  goes  on  to  tell  the  story  of  actual  deUver- 
ance  which  confirms  them,  and  of  which  they  are  indeed 
but  the  generalized  expression.     The  condensed  narrative 


IV.]  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD,  59 


moves  to  its  end  by  a  series  of  short  crashing  sentences 
h'ke  the  ring  of  the  destructive  axe  at  the  roots  of  trees. 
We  see  the  whole  sequence  of  events  as  by  lightning 
iiiishes,  which  give  brief  glimpses  and  are  quenched. 
The  grand  graphic  words  seem  to  pant  with  haste,  as 
they  record  Israel's  deliverance.  That  deliverance 
comes  from  the  Conquering  Voice. 

"  The  heathen  raged  "  (the  same  word,  we  may  note, 
as  is  found  a  verse  or  two  back,  "Though  the  waters 
thereof  roar''),  "the  kingdoms  were  moved;  he  uttered 
his  voice,  the  earth  melted." 

With  what  vigour  these  hurried  sentences  describe, 
first,  the  wild  wrath  and  formidable  movements  of  the 
foe,  and  then  the  One  Sovereign  Word  which  quells  them 
all,  as  well  as  the  instantaneous  weakness  that  dissolves 
the  seeming  solid  substance  when  the  breath  of  His  lips 
smites  it ! 

And  where  will  you  find  a  grander  or  loftier  thought 
than  this,  that  the  simple  word — the  utterance  of  the 
pure  will  of  God  conquers  all  opposition,  and  tells  at 
once  in  the  sphere  of  material  things?  He  speaks,  and  it 
is  done.  At  the  sound  of  that  thunder-voice,  hushed 
stillness  and  a  pause  of  dread  falls  upon  all  the  wide 
earth,  deeper  and  more  awe-struck  than  the  silence  of  the 
woods  with  their  huddling  leaves,  when  the  feebler  peals 
roll  through  the  sky.  "  The  depths  are  congealed  in  the 
heart  of  the  sea" — ^as  if  you  were  to  lay  hold  of  Niagara  in 
its  wildest  plunge,  and  were  with  a  word  to  freeze  all  its 
descending  waters  and  stiffen  them  into  immovableness  in 
fetters  of  eternal  ice.     So  He  utters  His  voice,  and  all 


6o  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD,         [SERM 

meaner  noises  are  hushed.  "  The  Hon  hath  roared,  who 
shall  not  fear  ?  " 

He  speaks — no  weapon,  no  material  vehicle  is  needed 
The  point  of  contact  between  the  pure  Di\'ine  will  and 
the  material  creatures  which  obey  its  behests  is  ever 
wrapped  in  darkness,  whether  these  be  the  settled  ordin- 
ances which  men  call  nature,  or  the  less  common  which 
the  Bible  calls  miracle.  In  all  alike  there  is,  to  ever}' 
believer  in  a  God  at  all,  an  incomprehensible  action  of 
the  spiritual  upon  the  material,  which  allows  of  no  ex- 
planations to  bridge  over  the  gulf  recognized  in  the 
broken  utterances  of  our  psalm,  "  He  uttered  his  voice  : 
the  earth  melted" 

How  grandly,  too,  these  last  words  give  the  impression 
of  immediate  and  utter  dissolution  of  all  opposition !  All 
the  Titanic  brute  forces  are,  at  His  voice,  disintegrated, 
and  lose  their  organization  and  soHdity.  "The  hills 
melted  like  wax ; "  "  The  mountains  flowed  down  at  thy 
presence."  The  hardness  and  obstinacy  is  all  liquefied 
and  enfeebled,  and  parts  with  its  consistency  and  is  lost 
in  a  fluid  mass.  As  two  carbon  points  when  the  electric 
stream  is  poured  upon  them  are  gnawed  to  nothingness 
by  the  fierce  heat,  and  you  can  see  them  wasting  before 
your  eyes,  so  the  concentrated  ardour  of  His  breath  falls 
upon  the  hostile  evil,  and  lo  !  it  is  not 

The  psalmist  is  generalizing  the  historical  fact  of  the 
sudden  and  utter  destruction  of  Sennacherib's  host  into 
a  universal  law.  And  it  is  a  universal  law — true  for  us 
as  for  Hezekiah  and  the  sons  of  Korah,  true  for  all 
generatioDS.     Martin  Luther  might  well  make  this  psalm 


IV.]  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD.  61 


the  battle  cry  of  the  Reformation,  and  we  may  well  make 
our  own  the  rugged  music  and  dauntless  hope  of  hi> 
rendeiing  of  these  words  : — 

"  And  let  the  Prince  of  111 
Look  grim  as  e'er  he  will. 
He  harms  us  not  a  whit. 
For  why  ?     His  doom  is  writ 
A  word  shall  quickly  slay  him.** 

IV.  Then  note,  finally,  how  the  psalm  shows  tu  Tkt 
act  by  which  we  enter  the  City  of  God. 

"The  Lord  of  Hosts  is  with  us;  the  God  of  Jacob  is 
our  refuge." 

It  is  not  enough  to  lay  down  general  truths,  however 
true  and  however  blessed,  about  the  safe  and  sacred  city 
of  God — not  enough  to  be  theoretically  convinced  of  the 
truth  of  the  supreme  governance  and  ever-present  aid  of 
God.  We  must  take  a  further  step  that  will  lead  us  far 
beyond  the  regions  of  barren  intellectual  apprehension  of 
the  great  truths  of  God's  love  and  care.  These  truths 
are  nothing  to  us,  brethren,  unless,  like  the  psalmist  here, 
we  make  them  our  own,  and,  losing  the  burden  of  self  in 
the  very  act  of  grasping  them  by  faith,  unite  ourselves 
with  the  great  multitude  who  are  joined  together  in  Him, 
and  say,  "He  is  my  God:  He  is  our  refuge."  That 
living  act  of  "  appropriating  faith  "  pre-supposes,  indeed, 
the  presence  of  these  truths  in  our  understandings,  but  in 
the  very  act  they  are  changed  into  powers  in  our  lives. 
They  pass  mto  the  afiections  and  the  will.  They  are  no 
more  empty  generalities.  Bread  nourishes,  not  when  it 
is  looked  at,  but  when  ii  is  eaten.     "He  that  eateth  me, 


62  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD.         [SERM 

even  he  shall  live  by  me."  We  feed  on  Christ  when  we 
make  Him  ours  by  faith,  and  each  of  us  is  sustained  and 
blessed  by  Him  when  we  can  say,  "  My  Lord  and  my 
God." 

Mark,  too,  how  there  is  here  set  forth  the  twofold 
ground  for  our  calmest  confulence  in  these  two  mighty 
names  of  God. 

"The  Lord  of  Hosts  is  with  us."  That  majestic  name 
includes  all  the  deep)est  and  most  blessed  thoughts  of 
God  which  the  earlier  revelation  imparted.  That  name 
of  "Jehovah"  proclaims  at  once  His  Eternal  Being  and 
His  covenant  relation — manifesting  Him  by  its  mysterious 
meaning  as  He  who  dwells  above  time  ;  the  tideless  sea 
of  absolute  unchanging  existence,  from  whom  all  the 
stream  of  creatural  Hfe  flows  forth  many  coloured  and 
transient,  to  whom  it  all  returns;  who,  Himself  unchanging, 
change th  all  things  ;  and  declaring  Him,  by  the  historical 
associations  connected  with  it,  as  having  unveiled  Hi*- 
purposes  in  firm  words,  to  which  men  may  trust,  an(i  as 
having  entered  into  that  solemn  league  with  Israel  which 
underlay  their  whole  national  life.  He  is  tJie  Lord  the 
Eternal, — the  covenant  name. 

He  is  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  the  "imperator,"  absolute 
master  and  commander,  captain  and  king  of  all  the  com- 
bined forces  of  the  universe,  whether  they  be  personal  or 
impersonal,  spiritual  or  material,  who,  in  serried  ranks, 
wait  on  Him,  and  move  harmonious,  obedient  to  His 
wHll. 

And  tliis  Eternal  Master  of  the  legions  of  the  universe 
Is  with  us,  weak  and  poor,  and  troubled  and  sinful  as  we 


IV.]  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD,  63 

are.  Therefore,  we  will  not  fear :  what  can  man  do 
unto  us  ? 

Again,  when  we  say,  "  The  God  of  Jacob  is  our 
refuge,"  we  reach  back  into  the  past,  and  lay  hold  of  the 
mercies  promised  to,  and  received  by,  the  long  vanished 
generations  who  trusted  in  Him  and  were  lightened.  As, 
by  the  one  name,  we  appeal  to  His  own  Being  and 
uttered  pledge,  so,  by  the  other,  we  appeal  to  His  ancient 
deeds — past  as  we  call  them,  but  present  with  Him,  who 
lives  and  loves  above  the  low  fences  of  time  in  the 
undivided  eternity.  All  that  He  has  been,  He  is;  all 
that  He  has  done.  He  is  doing.  We  on  whom  the  ends 
of  the  earth  are  come  have  the  same  helper,  the  same 
friend  that  "  the  world's  grey  patriarchs "  had.  They 
that  go  before  do  not  prevent  them  that  come  after.  The 
river  is  full  still.  The  van  of  the  pilgrim  host  did, 
indeed,  long,  long  ago  drink  and  were  satisfied,  but  the 
bright  waters  are  still  as  pellucid,  still  as  near,  still  as 
refreshing,  still  as  abundant  as  they  ever  were.  Nay, 
rather,  they  are  fuller  and  more  accessible  to  us  than  to 
patriarch  and  psalmist,  "God  having  provided  some 
better  thing  for  us,  that  they  without  us  should  not  be 
made  perfect." 

For  we,  brethren,  have  a  fuller  revelation  of  that 
mighty  name,  and  a  more  wondrous  and  closer  divine 
presence  by  our  sides.  The  psalm  rejoices  in  that  "  The 
Lord  of  Hosts  is  with  us ; "  and  the  choral  answer  of 
the  Gospel  swells  into  loftier  music,  as  it  tells  of  the  fulfil- 
ment of  psalmists'  hopes  and  prophets'  visions  in  Him 
who  is  called  "Imraanuel,"  which  is,  being  interpreted^ 


64  THE  CITY  AND  RIVER  OF  GOD. 

'*God  with  us."  The  psalm  is  confident  in  that  God 
dwelt  in  Zion.  And  our  confidence  has  the  more 
wondrous  fact  to  lay  hold  of,  that  even  now  the  Word 
who  dwelt  among  us  makes  His  abode  in  every  believing 
heart,  and  gathers  them  all  together  at  last  in  that  great 
city,  round  whose  flashing  foundations  no  tumult  of  ocean 
beats,  whose  gates  of  pearl  need  not  be  closed  against 
any  foes,  with  whose  happy  citizens  "  God  will  dwell,  and 
they  shall  be  His  people,  and  God  himself  shall  be  witli 
them,  and  be  their  God." 


SERMON    V. 

THE   SCHOOL  or  CHRIST. 


Ephes.  iv,  ao,  31. 

But  ye  have  not  so  learned  Christ ;  if  so  be  that  ye  have  he&iri 
him,  and  have  been  taught  by  him. 

HTHE  direct  and  immediate  purpose  of  these  words  is 
to  show  the  irreconcilable  contradiction  between  a 
course  of  life  such  as  that  of  other  Gentiles,  and  the 
Christian  discipline  and  instruction  which  these  Ephesian 
believers  had  received.  The  Apostle  draws  a  dreadful 
picture  of  heathenism,  which  we  might  profitably  hang 
up  by  the  side  of  the  flattering  portraits  of  "elegant 
mythologies"  which  we  meet  with  in  these  days,  when 
there  is  some  danger  that  the  study  of  the  philosophy  of 
mythology  may  blind  us  to  the  moral  and  spiritual  effects 
of  idolatry.  Here  is  the  estimate  formed  by  a  man  who 
had  looked  at  the  thing  with  his  own  eyes,  sharpened 
and  cleared  by  fellowship  with  God — **  In  the  vanity  of 
their  mind,  having  the  understanding  darkened,  being 
alienated  from  the  life  of  God  through  the  ignorance 
that  is  in  them — past  feeling,  have  given  themselves  over 
to  lasciviousness,  to  work  all  uncleanness  with  greediness" 
S 


66  THE  SCHOG]    ^^  CHRIST,  [SERM. 

He  starts  back,  as  it  were,  with  quick  recoil  of  abhorrence 
from  such  a  hideous  picture  as  that — "  But  ye  have  not 
so  learned  Christ."  The  diametrical  opposition  between 
so  foul  a  life,  and  the  principles  in  which  you  have  been 
trained,  needs  no  more  words.  And  then,  as  is  natural 
to  so  fervid  a  disposition,  in  which  logic  is  blended  with 
emotion,  he  seems  for  a  moment  to  forget  his  more 
immediate  purpose,  and  to  branch  off  into  what,  brief 
as  it  is,  is  yet  almost  a  complete  view  of  the  school  of 
Christ — the  scholars,  the  teacher,  the  theme,  the  process 
of  education,  and  the  j/urpose  for  which  it  is  all 
given. 

The  words  are  verj'  remarkable ;  carrying,  as  I  think, 
some  very  precious  lessons,  and  opening  up  regions  of 
truth  not  so  familiar  as  they  should  be  to  much  of  our 
i>opular  religious  thought.  With  this  general  idea,  that 
the  words  of  my  text  are  a  description  of  the  School  of 
Christ,  I  wish  to  consider  them  a  little  more  particularly 
now.  If  we  look  at  them  and  those  which  immediately 
follow,  we  shall  see  that  they  present  Christ  Himself  as 
the  great  lesson  learned  in  His  school — "  Ye  have  not  so 
learned  Christ ;"  that  they  regard  Christ  himself  as  being 
the  teacher  as  well  as  the  lesson — **  Ye  have  heard  him  ;" 
that  they  contemplate  the  learning  as  a  gradual  process 
of  tuition,  which  takes  effect  on  condition  of  union  with 
Christ — "  Ye  have  been  taught  in  him,"  not  "  by  him," 
as  our  translation  inaccurately  has  it;  that  they  further 
define  the  form  and  manner  of  the  teaching  as  being  in 
accordance  with  truth  in  Jesus — embodied  as  it  were  in 
Him,  and  that  they  put  the  whole  purpose,  or  possibly  Ir 


v.]  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CHRIST,  67 

another  aspect  the  whole  substance,  of  all  this  educational 
process  as  being  the  investiture  of  the  scholars  with  a  nev^ 
nature  made  like  God,  and  the  divesting  them  of  their 
ancient  evil— "That  ye  put  off  the  old  man,  and  put  on 
the  new  man,  which,  after  God,  is  created  in  righteous 
ness  and  true  holiness." 

It  would  lead  us  too  far  to  attempt  to  cover  all  this 
ground  to-day.  But  we  may  consider  together  these 
tliree  points  contained  in  our  text  in  a  somewhat  different 
order,  and  deal  briefly  with  The  Teacher ;  The  Process  of 
Instruction ;  and  The  Theme. 

I  Notice  that  we  have  here  distinctly  affirmed  that 
The  living  voice  of  Christ  himself  is  our  teacher. 

"  Ye  have  heard  Hifti,''  says  Paul.  Do  not  water  down 
these  plain  and  strong  words  as  if  they  meant  only  "  Ye 
have  heard  about  him,"  and  were  nothing  more  than  a 
strongly  figurative  way  of  speaking.  We  do,  indeed,  say 
of  men  long  gone,  the  mighty  dead  who  "rule  our  spirits 
from  their  urns,"  that  "  being  dead  they  yet  speak."  In 
their  books,  in  the  records  of  their  lives,  in  the  influence 
which  still  vibrates  from  their  deeds,  we  may  be  regarded 
as  hearing  them  still.  But  it  is  no  vague  prolongation  of 
influence  from  the  shadowy  past  that  Paul  is  thinking  of, 
wlien  he  says  that  these  Ephesians  had  heard  Christ. 
Neither  is  it  any  literal  listening  to  His  words  when  He 
spake  on  earth  that  could  have  place  in  the  experience 
of  these  men,  who  were  "worshippers  of  the  great 
goddess  Diana,  and  of  the  image  which  fell  down  from 
Jupiter,"  when  he  lifted  up  the  gentle  voice  that  was  not 
heard  in  the  streets.     Remember  that  the  New  Testament 


68  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CHRIST.  [SERM. 

everywhere  represents  Christ  as  still  working  and  teaching 
in  the  world ;  remember  that  He  himself  promised  the 
prolongation  of  His  great  work  of  declaring  the  Father 
beyond  the  limits  of  His  earthly  life,  and  that  no  more  in 
proverbs,  but  plainly.  Remember  that  He  has  pledged 
Himself  to  send  that  teaching  Spirit  of  truth,  in  whose 
coming  Christ  Himself  comes,  and  all  whose  illuminations 
and  communications  are  showing  and  imparting  to  us  the 
things  of  Christ.  The  ever-living  Saviour,  in  His  contin- 
uous energy  and  real  presence  in  the  midst  of  the  Church, 
which  is  His  school,  teaches  us,  not  as  men  who  are  gone 
do ;  not  merely  in  that  He  is  the  theme,  but  also  in  that 
He  is  the  living  breath  and  inspiring  power  of  all  the 
means  by  which  we  leani  of  Him.  Every  living  soul  may 
have,  and  every  Christian  soul  does  have,  direct  access 
for  himself  to  the  living  Lord,  the  Eternal  Word.  Christ 
is  the  Teacher,  the  only  Teacher,  the  Teacher  for  all  men, 
the  Teacher  of  all  truth.  He  only  is  our  Master,  and 
gathered  at  His  feet  all  we  are  brethren.  It  is  His  living 
influence  that  flows  to  us  through  the  channel  of  His 
word.  It  is  His  voice  that  speaks  to  us  in  all  providences. 
It  is  He  who  makes  the  syllables  that  come  from  human 
lips  eloquent  to  reach  our  understanding,  and  to  calm 
and  gladden  our  hearts.  In  every  region  of  Christian 
culture  and  tuition,  the  real  source  of  all  the  blessing 
is  Christ  Himself,  and  the  real  Master,  Example,  and 
Authority,  Instructor  and  Trainer  is  that  ever-living  Lord, 
who  speaketh  from  heaven,  who  speaketh  in  his  servants' 
hearts,  who  uses  as  His  medium  the  Book  which  records 
His  life  and  death,  and  subordinated  the  events  of  life 


v.]  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CHRIST.  69 


and  the  tongues  of  men — but  is  Himself  the  breath  which 
breathes  through  these  all. 

Dear  friends,  is  not  this  great  and  yet  simple  principle 
one  that  we  sorely  need  to  be  reminded  of,  and  to  grasp 
more  firmly  ?  We  think  far  too  much  of  that  Lord  as  a 
Lord  gone  from  us,  whose  influence  consists  only  in  wha 
He  was  and  did.  Blessed  be  His  name  !  His  influence 
is  all  built  upon  what  He  did  once  which  lives  for  ever, 
and  the  record  of  that  is  the  great  means  which  He  uses 
for  our  instruction  in  righteousness.  But  it  is  no  merely 
past  Sa\'iour  that  we  have  to  look  to  for  teaching,  but  the 
presence  of  an  ever-living  Lord — that  active  presence  in 
the  souls  of  all  believers,  that  pleading  approach  to  the 
souls  of  all  who  hear  of  His  love— who  hour  by  hour  is 
seeking  to  bring  us  all  closer  to  Himself.  We  have  heard 
Him — whether  we  know  it  or  not.  Let  not  the  loud 
noises  of  earth,  the  strife  of  tongues,  the  hubbub  without 
and  the  discords  within  our  spirits,  deaden  our  ears  to 
His  loving  low  tones.  We  have  heard  Him — whether  we 
have  listened  and  obeyed,  or  have  turned  away.  Let  us 
answer  when  He  calls,  with  all  our  yielding  spirits  bend- 
ing to  His  will,  and  our  hearts  opening  to  His  voice — 
"  Speak,  Lord,  for  thy  servant  heareth." 

n.  Then  notice,  secondly,  that  Those  who  are  in  Christ 
receive  continuous  instruction  from  Him.  "  And  have  been 
taught  in  Him."  These  words,  which  next  follow  in  our 
text,  seem  to  imply  the  conditions  and  the  gradual  process 
of  Christ's  schooling.  "  Hearing  Him  "  may  refer  rather 
to  the  initial  act  by  which  we  come  under  His  instruction, 
and  then  this  clause  will  apply  to  the  whole  subsequent 


70  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CHRIST,  [SERM 

process.  His  teaching  is  not  one  act,  but  a  long,  loving 
patient  discipline.  The  first  feeble  motion  of  faith  enrolls 
us  as  disciples,  and  then  there  follows  through  all  the  years 
the  "teaching  to  observe  all  things,  whatsoever  He  has 
commanded."  It  is  to  be  further  observed  that  the  Apostle 
does  not  say,  as  our  translation  makes  him  say,  "  Ye  have 
been  taught  by  Him,"  but  "  Ye  have  been  taught  in  Him." 
There  are,  then,  these  two  considerations  to  be  touched 
upon  here — that  the  condition  of  receiving  His  schooling 
is  to  be  in  Christ,  and  that  that  schooling  is  imparted  by  a 
gradual  process. 

I  suppose  I  need  not  occupy  much  of  your  time  in 
dilating  upon  that  first  thought.  It  is,  1  may  say,  the 
very  key-note  of  this  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians,  which  is 
penetrated  throughout  by  that  idea  of  our  living  union 
with  Christ,  and  indwelling  in  Him.  It  is  expressed  in 
many  metaphors.  We  are  rooted  in  Him  as  the  tree  in 
the  soil,  which  makes  it  firm  and  fruitful.  We  are  built 
into  Him  as  the  strong  foundations  of  the  temple  are 
bedded  in  the  living  rock.  We  live  in  Him  as  the  limbs 
in  the  body.  The  union  of  wedded  love  is  but  a  feeble 
type  of  that  "great  mystery  concerning  Christ  and  His 
Church."  That  thought  underlies  every  exhortation,  is 
alleged  as  the  basis  of  every  duty,  crowns  the  summit  ot 
every  hope.  For  illustration  turn  for  a  moment  to  the 
first  chapter  of  the  Epistle,  and  mark  the  reiteration  with 
which  the  words  "  in  Chnst "  are  used,  and  indwelling  in 
Him  regarded  as  the  condition  of  everything  that  a 
Christian  i)ossesses,  of  ever)'thing  that  he  can  expect 
He  writes  to  "the  faithful  in  Christ  Jesus ^     He  blesses 


v.]  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CHRIST,  71 

God  who  "has  blessed  with  all  spiritual  blessings  .  .  . 
in  Christ:^*  we  have  been  chosen  in  Him.  ^* In  tht 
beloved  God  has  bestowed  his  grace  upon  us."  And, 
more  remarkable  still,  "/«  Him  we  have  redemption 
through  his  blood,  even  the  forgiveness  of  sins  " — words 
which  in  their  fulness  complete  the  doctrine  of  redemption 
with  a  very  needful  element,  often  overlooked  and 
neglected.  We  have  not  said  the  whole  truth  about 
pardon  when  we  have  said,  "We  have  forgiveness  through 
his  blood."  Neither  have  we  said  the  whole  when  we 
say,  "  In  whom  we  have  redemption."  Both  clauses  are 
wanted.  "  In  him  "  is  the  personal  source  and  fountain. 
"Through  his  blood"  is  the  channel  or  means.  We 
have  not  redemption  in  His  work  without  His  person, 
nor  in  His  person  without  His  work.  We  have  not 
redemption  through  His  blood  unless  we  are  in  Him. 
joined  to  Him  by  that  deep  and  true  union  effected  by 
faith,  which  is  the  condition  of  that  mighty  work  done  for 
us,  being  a|)plied  to  us.  Still  further,  aspects  of  the  same 
profound  thought  occur  in  that  first  chapter — in  Christ 
all  things  in  heaven  and  earth  are  to  be  gathered  to- 
gether ;  i?i  Him  we  have  obtained  an  inheritance ;  and 
so  we  might  travel  through  the  whole  letter,  and  be  met 
ever}^where  by  the  same  representation  of  the  whole 
Christian  life  being  Life  in  Christ. 

We  surely  do  not  reach  the  whole  depth  of  such  words 
when  we  regard  them  as  a  mere  metaphor,  or  take  them 
to  imply  nothing  more  than  yielding  our  will  and  under- 
standing to  our  Teacher.  It  is  something  much  deeper 
than   that     The  indwelling  is  reciprocal,  and  its  very 


72  THE  SCHOOL   OF  CHRIST,  [SERM. 

nature,  as  well  as  its  blessed  results,  implies  the  true 
divinity  of  that  Lord  who  can  enter  human  souls  in  all 
ages  by  a  path  that  no  finite  creature  can  traverse,  and 
who  can  gather  the  homeless  hearts  of  all  the  race 
beneath  the  shadow  of  His  wings,  and  hide  them  in  the 
depths  of  His  own  heart  in  an  intimacy  of  which  our 
closest  friendships  here  are  but  pale  shadows.  They  tell 
us  that  no  two  atoms  ever  really  touch  ;  some  film  of  air 
is  ever  between  them.  And  after  all  sweetness  of  closest 
society  there  is  a  gap  between  the  most  loving  souls. 
But  we  can  be  joined  to  Christ  in  real  perfect  union. 

The  indwelling,  we  say,  is  reciprocal.  He  is  in  us, 
and  we  are  in  Him.  He  is  in  us  as  the  source  of  our 
Being ;  we  are  in  Him  as  filled  with  His  fulness.  He  is 
in  us  all-communicative;  we  are  in  Him  all-receptive. 
He  is  in  us  as  the  sunlight  in  the  else  darkened  chamber; 
we  are  in  Him  as  the  cold  green  log  cast  into  the  flaming 
furnace,  glows  through  and  through  with  ruddy  and 
transforming  heat  He  is  in  us  as  the  sap  in  the  veins  of 
the  tree ;  we  are  in  Him  as  the  branches.  **As  a  branch 
cannot  bear  fruit  of  itself,  except  it  abide  in  the  vine,  no 
more  can  ye  except  ye  abide  in  me." 

And  how  is  this  interpenetration  which  people  call 
mystical,  as  if  that  meant  fanatical  and  unreal,  forgetting 
that  there  is  a  true  "  mysticism  " — how  is  this  interpene- 
tration of  my  spirit  and  the  Spirit  of  Life  in  my  Lord 
brought  about,  so  as  that  all  through  my  darkness  there 
shall  be  shot  rays  of  His  brightness,  and  all  through  my 
stained  evil  there  shall  glow  the  lustre  of  His  light,  the 
brightness  of  His  righteousness  ?    The  analogies  of  our 


v.]  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CHRIST,  73 

closest  earthly  unions,  though  they  reach  not  to  the  depth 
of  this  wonderful  indwelling,  niay  help  us  to  some  part  of 
the  answer.  What  is  the  solvent  that  makes  human 
spirits  flow  together?  Is  there  not  one  force  which  goes 
far  to  throw  down  the  dark  barriers  that  separate  man 
from  man,  and  man  from  woman — one  mighty  emotion 
whose  breath  makes  them  melt  like  wax,  and  souls  blend 
together,  and  be  one  in  thought  and  will,  in  purpose  and 
hope?  And  when  that  one  uniting  force  in  human 
society — Love  built  upon  Confidence — is  diverted  from 
the  poor  finite  creatures,  and  transferred  from  one 
another  to  Him,  then  His  Infinite  Energy,  which  is  ever 
around  us  whether  we  know  it  and  open  our  hearts  to  it 
or  no,  flows  into  our  being,  and  becomes  an  indwelling 
guest  which  fills  our  souls.  They  that  love  are  one. 
"  He  that  is  joined  to  the  Lord  is  one  Spirit."  And  as 
the  prophet  in  the  wonderful  old  story  laid  himself  down 
on  the  dead  child,  hand  to  hand,  mouth  to  mouth,  lip  to 
lip,  and  heart  to  heart,  that  the  throbbing  heart  might 
move  the  pulses,  and  the  warmth  might  steal  into  the 
dull  cold  frame,  so,  but  with  a  contact  closer,  more  real, 
more  all-embracing  as  is  the  difierence  between  man  and 
God,  between  spirit  and  flesh,  Christ  lays  His  life  to  our 
death,  and  in  Him  we  too  live  and  move.  In  Him  we 
are  quickened  together  and  raised  up  together.  Christ's 
dwelling  in  us,  and  we  in  Him,  is  the  secret  and  the  con- 
dition of  all  our  spiritual  life.  Christian  men  and  women ! 
beware  that  nothing  weaken  or  break  that  Divine  union. 
He  is  in  us,  except  we  be  reprobate.  We  are  in  Him, 
except  we  be  dead     "  Ye  have  been  taught  in  Him." 


74  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CHRIST,  [SERM. 

And  this  closeness  of  real  union,  made  possible  by- 
faith  and  love,  and  in  its  nature  miraculous,  supernatural, 
involving  a  new  energy  of  the  divine  will  within  the  iron 
limits  of  the  natural  order, — this  union  is  the  condition 
of  all  learning  in  His  school.  Of  course ;  for  Christ's 
teaching  is  no  outward  communication  of  cut-and-dried 
notions  which  may  be  given,  if  only  the  scholar's  under- 
standing comes  in  contact  with  the  teacher's ;  it  is  no 
impartation  of  outward  commands  which  may  be  given 
if  only  the  disciples'  will  yield  to  the  master's  ;  but  His 
teaching  is  essentially  the  communication  of  Himself,  and 
that  is  only  possible  where,  by  reason  of  trustful  depen- 
dence and  the  attachment  of  the  whole  throbbing  being 
to  Him,  the  barriers  between  us  and  the  influx  of  that 
divine  river  of  light  and  wisdom  have  been  all  swept 
away. 

And  then  there  is  another  idea  on  which  I  may  touch 
for  a  moment,  and  that  is  the  gradual  process  by  which 
this  education  m  union  with  Him  is  effected.  "  Ye  have 
been  taught  in  Him."  Step  by  step,  by  the  slow  unveiling 
of  that  which  we  received,  thank  God  !  when,  howsoever 
dimly,  we  apprehended  His  perfect  beauty,  and  all  com- 
manding authority  over  us ;  step  by  step  these  are  un- 
folded to  our  consciences,  to  our  hearts,  to  our  whole 
being.  And  so,  dear  brethren,  do  not  you  fancy  that  it 
is  enough,  when  you  have  been  entered  in  Christ's  school 
Do  not  you  fancy  that  you  have  said  enough  when  you 
have  said,  as  a  great  many  people  do  say,  "  I  am  a  Chris- 
tian ;  I  was  converted  ten,  twenty,  thirty  years  ago ;  I 
neard  Christ  speaL"    Very  likely.     But  has   the  point 


v.]  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CHRIST.  75 

been  drawn  out  into  a  line  ?     Have  you  gone  on  as  you 
began?     Has   the  gradual   tuition    followed  upon   the 
initial  submission  ?     Have  you  been  learning  of  Him,  as 
well  as  listening  to  Him  once,  a  long,  long  while  ago  ? 
Why,  how  many  amongst  us  are  there — I  speak  now  to 
the  more  matiu-ed  in  years  of  my  congregation,  and  the 
older  in  Christian  character — how  many  of  us  that  have 
got  any  new  gleams  either  of  theological  or  practical 
wisdom  from  Christ  for  years  past?     How  many  of  us 
that  have  got  deeper  constructions  of  our  duties  than  we 
used  to  have  ?     How  many  of  us  that  keep  open  heart 
for  all  new  thoughts  that  shall  shine  upon  us  from  Christ's 
truth  and  Christ's  teaching  ?     And  how  many  of  us  are 
like  great  overgrown  boys,  whose  education  has  been  ne- 
glected, sitting  upon  the  lowest  form  with  their  spelling 
books  in  their  hands  when   they  are  men,  and   having 
learnt  next  door  to  nothing,  in  all  the  years  we  have 
called  ourselves  Christians  ?     Paul  felt  it  to  be  a  gradual 
process.    Has  it  been  a  gradual  process  with  you  and  me, 
dear  brethren  ?     Is  it  not  true  that  we  are  angry  rather 
than  thankful  when  some  new  thought  comes  to  us  out  of 
His  word,  disturbing  all  the  rest,  just  as  when  you  get  a 
new  piece  of  furniture  into  your  house,  you   have   to 
arrange  and  re-arrange  all  the  other  pieces  in  order  to  get 
it  straight  ?     How  many  of  us  have  formularized  our  im- 
perfect knowledge  of  Christ  into  an  absolute  creed  that 
we  brandish  in  everybod/s  face,  and  declare  there  is 
nothing  beyond  but  cloudland,  and  no  verities  for  thought 
nor  maxims  for  practice  that  we  have  not  made  clear  to 
ourselves  already?    We  talk  about  progressive  instruction, 


76  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CHRIST.  [sERNt 

going  on  to  the  end  of  our  lives.  Ninety-nine  hundredths 
of  us  believe  not  only  (what  is  true)  that  we  have  got  all 
when  we  have  once  grasped  Christ,  but  that  all  which 
we  have  got  when  we  have  once  grasped  Him  is  open  to 
our  consciousness  in  the  very  beginning  of  our  Christian 
course.  It  is  not  so.  He  puts  not  bread  into  our  hands 
but  seed  com ;  and  although  we  carry  away  the  full  sack 
whenever  we  go  to  our  Brother  and  ask  Him  to  feed  our 
hungriness,  it  is  germinal  principles  that  He  gives  us 
rather  than  loaves,  and  we  have  got  to  cultivate  them  and 
watch  them,  and  patiently  too,  in  the  belief  that  He  will 
bless  the  springing  thereof,  and  after  many  days  we  shall 
find  seed  for  new  sowing,  as  well  as  bread  for  the  eater ! 
III.  This  gradualness  and  slowness  of  instruction  is 
brought  out  still  more  distinctly  if  we  look  at  the  third 
idea  which  is  contained  in  these  words,  as  to  the  sub- 
stance of  the  instruction — The  theme  of  the  Teaching  is  the 
Teacher,  **Ye  have  not  so  learned  Christ."  Then  our 
lesson  is — not  thoughts  about  the  Lord,  but  the  living  Lord 
Himself,  not  the  doctrine  of  Christianity  only,  but  Christ 
the  theme  as  well  as  the  teacher.  Not  that  I  mean 
to  say  that  doctrines — dogmas  if  you  hke — which  are 
nothing  more  than  the  principles  of  God's  revelation 
put  into  as  good  logical  shape  and  form  as  man's  poor 
understanding  can  put  them — not  that  they  are  to  be 
disposed  of  in  the  fashion  that  too  many  people  do  dis- 
pose of  them  nowadays.  I  do  not  know  any  way  by 
which  we  can  attain  to  the  knowledge  of  the  living  person 
but  by  the  truths  about  Him,  which  some  people  despise 
as  being  "  dogmatic  theology." 


v.]  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CHRIST.  77 


But  putting  that  on  one  side,  what  I  wish  to  insist  upon 
is  this,  that  in  that  Christ,  the  man  Christ  Jesus,  the  Son 
of  God,  there  lie  the  thoughts  for  all  our  knowledge,  the 
master  principles  of  all  our  conceptions,  the  light  of  all 
our  seeing;  that  in  Him,  His  person.  His  deeds.  His 
utterances.  His  relations  to  men,  His  relation  to  God, 
there  is  the  formative  basis  of  everything  that  is  worth 
thinking  about  and  knowing  in  regard  to  every  subject 
which  does  not  belong  to  the  mere  material  life  of  man. 
All  philosophy,  all  ethics,  all  reasonable  history  of 
humanity,  the  principles  of  all  the  communities  into 
which  men  shall  aggregate  themselves,  light  upon  the 
nature  of  man's  spirit,  light  upon  the  relations  of  man  to 
God,  the  hopes  that  bum  bright  with  immortality  in  the 
midst  of  the  darkness  of  the  grave,  and  if  there  be  any 
other  theme  above  the  level  of  the  beasts  that  perish  and 
the  wants  that  are  like  theirs,  they  are  all  to  be  found  in 
Him — in  whom,  by  no  hyperbole,  are  hid  all  the  treasures 
of  wisdom  and  knowledge.  Gather  off  your  beech  trees 
in  the  budding  spring  days  a  little  brown  shell,  in  which 
lies  tender  green  leafage,  and  if  you  will  carefully  strip  it 
you  wall  find  packed  in  a  compass  that  might  almost  go 
through  the  eye  of  a  needle,  the  whole  of  that  which 
afterwards  in  the  sunshine  is  to  spread  and  grow  to  the 
yellow-green  foliage  which  delights  and  freshens  the  eye. 
So  in  Christ — to  be  unfolded  through  slow  generations, 
in  accordance  with  human  experience  and  wants,  is  all 
that  men  can  know  or  need  to  know  concerning  God  and 
themselves,  and  the  relations  of  both — their  duties,  their 
hopes,  their  fears,  and  their  love. 


78  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CHRIST,  [SERM. 

If  that  be  true,  and  if  in  Him,  and  in  living  contact 
with  Him,  there  be  light  for  the  understanding  and  abso- 
lute commandment  for  the  will,  which  really  desires  to  be 
commanded  and  not  to  have  its  own  way ;  changeless 
and  perfect  love  for  the  heart,  which  really  longs  to  twine 
round  tliat  stay  which  is  never  to  be  taken  up  nor  cut 
down,  the  fruition  of  all  the  sensitive  desires,  and  the 
adequate  and  sufficient  refuge  in  every  changing  circum- 
stance,— if  that  be  so,  then,  as  a  matter  of  course,  an 
endless  process  of  tuition  must  needs  go  on  in  order  that 
even  partially  and  inadequately,  and  yet  in  such  degree 
as  the  finite  is  capable  of  the  infinite,  we  may  possess 
Christ  and  be  finished  scholars  in  His  school.  Because, 
then,  He  is  our  theme,  we  cannot  die  nor  pass  away  till 
we  have  learned  Him  all,  and  therefore  they  that  love 
Him  and  trust  Him  must  live  for  ever  and  ever,  growing 
in  grace  and  in  the  knowledge  of  their  Lord  and  Saviour, 
Jesus  Christ 

The  same  idea  might  substantially  be  suggested  by  that 
somewhat  enigmatical  and  difficult  phrase  which  closes 
the  words  of  our  text — "  If  we  have  learned,  and  been 
taught,  as  the  truth  is  in  Jesus ; "  our  knowledge  should, 
and  sometime  will,  correspond  to  the  absolute  truth  that 
resides  in  Him,  and  not  until  between  our  perceptions  of 
Hira  and  the  reality  of  what  He  is  there  is  an  equilibrium, 
not  until  then  has  that  tuition  come  to  its  close. 

Finally,  our  text  has  one  distinct  purpose  in  all  the 
depth  and  grandeur  of  its  scope,  and  that  is  to  set  forth 
the  practical  issue  of  all  those  lessons  that  are  taught  in 
the  school  of  Christ.     He   speaks,  and  we  hear  Him- 


v.]  THE  SCHOOL  OF  CHRIST,  79 

Patiently  and  day  by  day  He  teaches  us.  Joined  to 
Him  we  are  recipients  of  His  tuition  and  His  discipline. 
We  advance  in  His  knowledge,  appropriating  ever  more 
and  more  of  Himself,  and  becoming  more  and  more 
conscious  that  He  is  the  basis  of  our  action,  and  the 
ground  of  our  hope.  And  it  is  all  for  what  ?  That  we 
may  be  happy?  Yes.  That  we  may  be  wise?  Yes. 
That  we  may  escape  hell  ?  Yes  ;  if  we  know  what  hell 
means.  That  we  may  go  to  heaven  ?  Yes  ;  if  we  imder- 
stand  what  heaven  is.  And  perhaps  you  will  find  the 
definition  of  both  best  if  you  read  on  in  the  text^  and 
learn  that  all  this  sedulous  training  and  blessed  growth 
is  for  this  purpose — that  we  may  "  put  off  the  old  man,'' 
wherein  is  damnation,  and  that  we  may  "  put  on  the  new 
man,  which,  after  God,  is  created  in  righteousness  and 
true  holiness." 

And  so,  then,  dear  brethren,  what  we  have  to  do  is 
simply  to  yield  up  our  understandings,  our  wills,  our 
hearts,  our  consciences,  and  all  the  activities  of  our  lives 
to  Him  ;  to  be  commanded,  to  be  cleansed,  to  be  en- 
lightened, to  be  filled  with  His  love,  to  be  conformed  to 
i  lis  likeness,  for  the  voice  that  spoke  from  the  heavens 
speaks  to  us  yet— "This  is  my  beloved  Son,  hear  ye 
iiiml- 


8o 


SERMON  VL 
THE  NEW  NAME. 


Rev.  ii,  17. 


To  him  that  overcometh  will  I  give  to  eat  of  the  hidden  nuLi/r,. 
ind  will  give  him  a  white  stone,  and  in  the  stone  a  new  name  writieiv. 
which  no  man  knoweth  saving  he  that  receiveth  it 

nPHERE  may  be  discerned  in  the  various  promises  to 
the  victors  in  these  seven  epistles  a  general  corres- 
pondence between  the  form  of  their  trials  and  the  form  of 
their  reward.  In  the  present  case  the  words  of  my  text 
are  addressed  to  a  church,  of  which  it  is  said  that  in  the 
midst  of  much  temptation  and  many  false  teachers  they 
held  fast  "  my  name."  They  were  true  to  that  name,  the 
revealed  character  of  their  Lord  and  Master ;  and,  being 
faithful  to  that,  nor  suffering  themselves  to  be  either 
flattered,  or  sneered,  or  persuaded,  or  argued  out  of  it, 
there  comes  as  a  consequence  that  having  overcome  they 
shall  receive  the  new  name — which,  as  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  show  you  presently,  I  take  to  be  the  new 
name  of  the  Lord,  to  whose  ancient  name  they  had,  in  the 
time  of  their  temptation,  been  faithful. 
And  then  there  is  another  thing  to  be  noted  about  the 


THE  NEW  NAME.  8i 

whole  series  of  these  promises,  and  that  is,  that  through 
the  first  four  of  them,  at  all  events,  there  is  a  very  per- 
ceptible chronological  progress.  The  first  of  them  carries 
us  back  to  the  primeval  state  of  man — "To  him  that  over- 
cometh  will  I  give  to  eat  of  the  tree  of  life,  which  is  in 
the  midst  of  the  paradise  of  God,"  and  represents  the 
future  reward  as  being  the  renewal  and  perpetuation  of 
that  lost  paradise.  The  second  comes  down  a  step  in 
the  history  of  humanity — "  He  that  overcometh  shall  not 
be  hurt  of  the  second  death,"  and  represents  that  future 
state  as  being  the  reversal  of  the  curse  and  woe  that 
came  by  sin.  The  third  of  them,  which  we  are  consider- 
ing this  morning,  in  one  of  its  portions  obviously,  and  in 
its  other  portion  probably,  advances  still  farther,  referring 
to  the  wilderness  history  of  the  chosen  people — "  To  him 
that  overcometh  will  I  give  to  eat  of  the  hidden  manna," 
and  sets  forth  that  future  as  being  the  trae  possession  of 
the  spiritual  and  heavenly  food.  And  then  the  fourth  one 
alludes  to  the  kingly  epoch  in  Israel,  and  represents  that 
future  as  being  the  fulfilment  of  what  had  been  shadowed 
in  David  and  David's  son — "And  he  shall  rule  them  with 
a  rod  of  iron ;  as  the  vessels  of  a  potter  shall  they  be 
broken  to  shivers." 

This,  then,  being  the  general  law  of  progress  and 
reference  to  the  ancient  history  as  recurring  in  nobler 
form  in  the  future  experience,  is  there  any  way  of  con- 
necting the  obscure  and  enigmatical  promise  of  my  text 
with  that  general  series  ?  I  think  there  is.  There  has 
been  a  great  whirl  of  varying  conjectures  as  to  its  force 
and  meaning.     The  "  white  stone  "  has  been  spoken  of 


82  THE  NEW  NAME,  [SERM. 

as  being  the  symbol  of  acquittal,  of  election  and  choice, 
of  admission  to  the  heavenly  banquet ;  all  which  may  be 
true.  But  there  is  one  objection  at  the  very  beginning 
to  any  such  interpretations,  namely,  that  they  all  are 
gathered  from  the  circle  of  heathe?i  associations,  whereas 
the  whole  Apocalypse  moves  within  the  circle  of  Jewish 
symbols.  So  then,  if  we  doubt  as  to  the  force  of  these 
and  other  similar  interpretations,  have  we  anything  in  the 
Jewish  history,  especially  somewhere  about  the  same 
period  as  the  manna,  which  may  help  us?  I  think  that 
an  explanation  which  has  been  sometimes  given  seems  to 
be  commended  by  very  many  considerations.  There 
was  a  precious  stone,  lustrous  and  resplendent — for  that 
is  the  force  of  the  word  white  here,  not  a  dead  white,  but 
a  brilliant  coruscating  white — on  which  there  was  some- 
thing written,  which  no  eye  but  one  ever  saw — that  mys- 
terious seat  of  revelation  and  direction  known  in  the  Old 
Testament  by  the  name  of  Urim  and  Thummim  (that  is, 
lights  and  perfectnesses),  enclosed  within  the  folds  of  the 
High  Priest's  breast-plate,  which  none  but  the  High 
Priest  ever  beheld.  We  may,  perhaps,  bring  that  ancient 
fact  into  connection  with  the  promise  in  my  text,  and 
then  it  opens  out  into  a  whole  world  of  suggestions  with 
regard  to  the  priestly  dignity  of  the  victors,  with  regard 
to  the  gift  that  is  bestowed  upon  them,  a  hidden  gift  worn 
upon  their  breasts,  and  containing  within  it  and  inscribed 
upon  it  the  Divine  name,  unseen  by  any  eye  but  that  of  him 
that  bears  it  "No  man  knoweth  the  name  saving  he  that 
receiveth,"  says  our  text;  for  "  it,"  in  our  version,  is  a  sup- 
plement    Receives  what  ?    What  is  the  it  ?    The  name 


Vt]  THE  Nt  IV  NAME.  83 

— we  instinctively  suppose.  The  stone  more  accurately, 
perhaps.  He  that  receives  that  receives  with  it  the  name, 
no  doubt ;  but  it  is  the  possessor  of  the  precious  jewel 
that  our  text  really  says  alone  knows  what  is  written 
thereon,  even  as  the  priestly  possessor  of  the  Urim  and 
Thummim  was  the  only  person  who  knew  the  inscription. 
Tlie  siune  is  of  secondary  importance,  and  only  comes 
into  consideration  as  the  vehicle  for  the  real  heart  of  the 
promised  gift,  which  is  the  new  name. 

And  then  there  is  one  other  observation  to  be  made. 
We  usually  take  it  for  granted — for  no  good  reason  that 
I  know  of — that  the  new  name  here  is  the  new  name  of 
the  man  to  whom  the  stone  with  the  name  is  given. 
Well,  that  seems  a  roundabout  way,  does  it  not,  of  saying 
that  a  man  shall  get  a  new  name,  to  say  that  there  shall 
be  given  to  him  a  jewel  with  the  name  inscribed  on  it? 
That  is  one  reason  for  doubting  whether  such  is  a  correct 
interpretation.  Another  reason  may  be  found  in  the  fart 
that  any  references  in  the  rest  of  the  book,  that  seem  to 
deal  with  a  similar  subject,  distinctly  tell  us  that  the 
name  to  be  possessed  or  borne  by  the  perfected  spirits  is 
not  in  the  first  instance  their  own,  but  God's  and  Chrisf  s. 
For  instance,  we  read  in  the  next  chapter — "  And  I  will 
write  upon  him  the  name  of  my  God,"  "And  I  will  write 
upon  him  my  new  name,"  and,  in  the  last  vision  of  all, 
"His  servants  serve  him,  and  see  his  face,  and  his  name 
shall  be  upon  their  foreheads."  I  incline  to  take  these 
two  last  passages  as  substantially  parallel  and  coincident 
with  our  text.  I  regard  the  promise  which  they  contain 
as  the  key  to  this.     So  understood,  the  reference  to  the 


84  THE  NEW  NAME.  [SERM. 

High  Priest's  hidden  jewel,  with  the  ineffable  name  flash- 
ing upon  it,  receives  additional  force  as  symbolizing  the 
reward  given  to  the  priestly  conquerors — the  possession 
in  their  perfected  spirits  of  the  new  name,  the  name  of 
God  in  Christ. 

Thus,  with  these  explanations,  which  have  extended  to 
a  greater  length  than  I  proposed,  let  me  try  now  to  put 
before  you  what  seem  to  me  to  be  the  thoughts  con- 
tained in  this  great  and  wonderful  promise. 

I.  I  would  say,  carrying  out  my  previous  remarks — 
That  new  Name  is  Chrisfs  and  ours. 

It  is  His  first,  it  becomes  ours  by  communication  from 
Him.  That  is  the  representation  uniformly  given  in 
Scripture  with  regard  to  all  the  change  and  glorifying  of 
human  nature  which  follows  upon  the  entrance  into  the 
life  beyond.  It  is  ever  set  forth  as  being  the  consequence 
of  a  fuller  knowledge  and  possession  of  the  name — the 
manifested  character  of  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  The 
words  of  the  Apostle  John,  who  wrote  the  Apocalypse, 
mean  the  same  thing  without  metaphor,  as  his  words 
here  in  their  metaphor,  "  We  shall  be  Hke  Him,  for  we 
shall  see  Him  as  He  is."  And  we  may  expand  this  pro- 
mise thus — it  includes  three  things,  Revelation,  As- 
similation, and  Consecration. 

"I  will  give  him  a  new  name" — a  deeper,  a  more 
inward,  a  fresh  knowledge  and  revelation  of  my  own 
character — as  eternal  love,  eternal  wisdom,  all-sufficient, 
absolute  power,  the  home  and  treasure,  and  joy  and 
righteousness  of  the  whole  heart  and  spirit. 

And  remember  that  this  new  name  does  not  antiquate 


VI.]  THE  NEW  NAME.  85 

our  present  knowledge.  Dear  brethren,  we  shall  never 
get  beyond  the  cross  of  Christ,  as  the  highest  manifesta- 
tion of  God.  In  heaven  and  in  earth  it  is  the  chiefest 
medium  of  revelation  of  the  Divine  character,  as  the  ever- 
giving  and  ever-loving  Lord.  The  climax  of  all  His 
work  lies  in  that  fact,  eighteen  hundred  years  back  in  the 
past.  Concerning  the  depth  of  the  motive  from  which 
it  came,  you  and  I  have  no  lines  that  can  fathom  His 
heart — heaven  alone  will  teach  us  what  the  cross  means 
of  the  love  of  God.  Concerning  the  rescue  that  it  has 
effected,  you  and  I  have  no  present  adequate  means  of 
knowing  from  what  we  have  been  delivered.  We  stand 
with  averted  eyes,  as  upon  the  edge  of  some  great 
volcano,  and  see  the  swirling  sulphur  smoke,  and  the 
fierce  flames  flashing  out  from  the  yellow  sides  of  the 
fiery  pit  below ;  but  we  see  but  little  of  what  we  have 
escaped  from,  nor  know  the  dolefulness  of  the  r^ons 
of  alienation  and  rebellion  and  persistent  rejection  of 
God  1  Heaven  will  teach  us  what  is  the  love  of  God  by 
the  revelation  that  it  will  give  us  of  the  depth  of  dismay 
and  darkness  that  are  found  where  men  believe  not  in 
the  love.  The  higher  you  rise  upon  the  clifls,  the 
farther  down  into  the  abyss  you  can  look  ;  and,  when  we 
know  what  hell  is,  by  the  antithesis  of  heaven,  we  shall 
have  a  new  vision,  by  what  we  win,  of  what  we  escaped 
when  He  took  away  the  sting  of  death,  and  closed  the 
gates  of  that  dismal  land  1  The  cross  remains  for  ever 
the  revelation  of  the  love  of  God ;  but  in  heaven  we 
shall  learn  what  we  know  not  here — the  full  wealth  which 
shall  succeed  the  earnest   of  the  inheritance,  and,  pos- 


86  THE  NEW  NAME,  [SERM. 

sessing  the  lustrous  glories,  we  shall  understand  something 
more  of  the  infinite  mercy  that  has  bought  them  for  us. 
The  sun  remains  the  same,  but  as  different  as  its  sphere 
looks,  seen  from  the  comet  at  its  aphelion,  away  out  far 
beyond  the  orbits  of  the  planets  in  the  dim  regions  of 
that  infinite  abyss,  and  seen  from  the  same  orb  at  its 
perihelion  when  it  circles  round  close  by  the  burning 
brightness ;  so  different  does  that  mighty  Sun  of  righte- 
ousness look  to  us  now  in  His  eternal  self-revelation,  by 
sacrifice  and  death,  from  what  He  will  seem  in  that  same 
self-revelation  when  we  shall  stand  by  His  side  ! 

And  all  this  is  not  intended  for  one  moment  to  deny 
that  in  addition  to  all  that  may  come  from  change  of 
position,  from  the  development  of  new  power,  from  the 
mere  fact  of  having  the  history  of  life,  our  own,  and  our 
brethren's  behind  us,  there  will  also  be  that  of  which  we 
cannot  speak — fresh  effluxes  of  the  Divine  goodness,  fresh 
manifestations  of  the  Divine  love  and  all-sufficiency. 
About  that  silence  is  our  best  speech.  "  We  wait  for  the 
appearing  of  the  great  God,  even  our  Saviour  I "  Only 
let  us  remember,  as  you  may  give  to  a  man  in  the  tem- 
perate or  frigid  zones  the  seeds  of  some  tropical  plant, 
that  may  perhaps  grow  and  put  forth  some  pale  leaves 
and  ineffectual  blossoms,  which  yet  will  scarcely  be  worthy 
to  be  called  leafage  and  flowerage,  as  compared  with  the 
broad,  smooth  foliage,  and  glowing  brightness  that  the 
same  seeds  would  evolve  planted  in  their  natural  soil, 
so  here  into  our  hands,  wanderers  in  inclement  climes, 
God  puts  what  I  may  call  the  exotic  seeds — the  know- 
ledge of  His  love  in  Christ — ^and  we  tend  them ;  and, 


VI.]  THE  NEW  NAME.  87 

blessed  be  His  name,  they  do  grow  beneath  our  cloudy 
skies,  and  amidst  our  long  winters.  But  when  we  come 
to  that  higher  house  where  these  be  planted,  they  shall 
flourish  in  a  luxuriance  and  beauty  undreamed  of  before 
— in  new  consciousness  of  His  love,  in  new  revelations 
of  Christ's  name,  in  new  understanding  and  possession  of 
the  old  name,  ever  new,  yet  ever  the  same. 

And  then,  still  further,  on  this  new  revelation  of  the 
name  of  Christ  there  follows  as  a  consequence  assimila- 
tion to  the  name  which  we  possess,  or,  as  the  passage 
already  quoted  from  John's  Epistle  puts  it,  transformation 
into  the  likeness  of  Him  whom  we  behold.  The  gift  ol 
the  nam^  is  such  an  inward  revelation  of  Christ  in  His 
glory  and  perfectness  as  pre-supposes  full  sympathy  with 
Him  for  its  condition,  and  implies  a  still  more  thorough 
conformity  to  Him  as  its  result  If  His  name  be  given 
to  the  victors,  it  cannot  be  theirs  by  any  other  means 
than  a  possession  which  is  at  once  vision  and  participa- 
tion. No  mere  perception  of  Christ's  glory,  as  beyond 
and  above,  would  satisfy  the  breadth  of  this  great  promise, 
if  such  unpossessing  perception  v/ere  possible.  But  it  is 
not.  We  cannot  know  His  name  without  sharing  it 
If  we  behold  His  glory  we  shall  possess  it,  as  the  light 
must  enter  the  eye  for  vision.  There  must,  no  doubt, 
be  great  physical  changes  in  order  to  make  us  capable  of 
that  new  light  But  even  these,  marvellous  as  we  have 
reason  to  believe  they  will  be,  are  of  less  importance  than 
those  wondrous  expansions  of  spiritual  nature  and  per- 
fectings  of  moral  sympathy  with  our  Saviour,  which  will 
follow  the  flooding  of  the  soul  with  the  light  of  His  new 


88  THE  NEW  NAME,  [SERM. 

name.  The  light  and  the  soul  which  receives  will,  as  it 
were,  act  and  re-act.  The  light  beheld  transforms.  The 
soul  transformed  is  capable  of  more  light.  That  again 
flows  in,  and  purifies  and  beautifies.  Thus,  in  continuous 
reciprocal  energy,  the  endless  process  of  learning  to 
know  an  Infinite  Saviour,  and  becoming  like  a  Perfect 
Lord,  goes  on  with  constant  approximation,  and  yet  with 
somewhat  ever  undisclosed.  The  gift  is  not  once  for 
all,  but  is  continuous  through  eternity. 

We  shall  become  like  Christ  by  knowing  Him.  We 
shall  know  Him  by  getting  like  Him.  The  water  of  life 
takes  the  shape  of  the  containing  vessel,  but  it  has  like- 
wise the  property  of  dilating  the  spirit  into  which  it  flows, 
and,  by  firuition,  enlarging  capacity,  and  hence  kindling 
desire.  The  sun  shines  upon  the  sensitive  plate,  and  an 
image  of  the  sun  is  photographed  there. 

The  name  received  becomes  ours  by  Christ's  commu- 
nication. His  new  name  is  His  servants'  new  name, 
according  to  the  deep  mystery  hidden  in  the  ancient 
word  of  symbolic  prophecy,  which  applies  to  Jerusalem 
and  its  King  the  same  designation,  and  says  in  the  one 
breath,  "  This  is  the  name  by  which  He  shall  be  called, 
the  Lord  our  righteousness ; "  and  in  the  other, 
**  This  is  the  name  by  which  Zion  shall  be  called,  the 
Lord  our  righteousness."  "So,  also,"  says  the  Apostle, 
is  Christ,"  meaning  thereby  not  the  personal  Redeemer, 
but  the  total  sum  of  the  spirits  redeemed  by  His  grace, 
incorporated  by  living  union  into  Himself,  sharers  of  His 
likeness,  and  transformed  by  His  glory. 

Then  there  is  a  third  idea  implied  in  this  promise,  if  the 


VI.]  THE  NEW  NAME,  89 

new  name  be  Christ's,  and  that  is  possession  or  conseaa- 
iion. 

His  name  is  given,  that  is,  His  character  is  revealed 
His  character  is  imparted,  and  further,  by  the  gift  He 
takes  as  well  as  gives,  He  takes  us  for  His  even  in  giving 
Himself  to  be  ours.  It  is  a  sign  of  ownership  and 
authority  to  impose  one's  name — "  They  call  their  lands 
after  their  own  names."  As  a  man  writes  his  name  upon 
the  fly  leaf  of  his  books,  or  stamps  his  initials  on  his 
valuables,  so  Christ  gives  His  name  in  token  of 
proprietorship,  and  builds  on  that  fact  at  once  the 
assurance  of  protection  and  the  demand  for  service. 
"Bring  my  sons  from  far,  even  every  one  that  is  called 
by  my  name,  for  I  have  created  him  for  my  glory."  The 
slave  is  branded  with  the  letters  of  his  owner's  name. 
"  I  bear  in  my  body  the  marks  of  the  Lord  Jesus,"  and 
the  letters  which  are  here  burned  in  by  hot  irons  will 
yonder  be  filled  with  lustrous  gold,  and  the  ownership 
which  on  earth  was  testified  by  suffering  will  in  heaven  be 
manifested  in  glory.  The  High  Priesf  s  mitre  bore  on  its 
front  "  Holiness  to  the  Lord,"  and  one  of  the  last  and 
highest  promises  of  Scripture  is  cast  in  the  form  supplied 
by  the  symbol  of  Aaron's  ofllice  and  honour,  "  his  servants 
shall  serve  him  " — in  priestly  service,  that  is — "  and  they 
shall  see  his  face."  Action  and  contemplation,  so  hard 
to  harmonize  here,  shall  blend  at  last  "  And  his  name 
shall  be  in  their  foreheads,"  the  token  of  His  possession, 
manifest  for  all  eyes  to  behold.  And  thus,  when  we 
behold  Him  we  become  like  Him ;  and  in  the  measure 
which  we  become  Hke  Him  we  belong  to  Him;  not  one 


90  THE  NEW  NAME,  [SERM. 

Step  farther.  That  in  us  which  is  not  transformed  hath 
no  part  in  Christ.  That  in  us  which  belongs  to  Him  is 
identified  in  sympathy,  in  feeling,  in  moral  character 
with  Him.  When  our  minds  think  His  thoughts,  and  are 
occupied  with  His  truth,  then  they  are  His,  in  so  far  as 
"  we  have  the  mind  of  Christ"  When  our  hearts  love 
His  loves,  then  they  are  His  in  so  far  as  they  throb  in 
sympathy.  When  our  wills  go  out  in  the  direction  of 
His  purposes,  then  they  are  His  in  so  far  as  the  touch  of 
His  finger  upon  the  keys  in  the  heavens  moves  the  trem- 
ulous needles  of  our  volitions  upon  the  earth.  We  belong 
to  Him  in  the  measure  in  which  we  are  like  Him.  He 
possesses  us  in  the  measure  in  which  we  possess  His 
name,  which  is  His  revealed  self. 

n.  Such,  then,  being  a  general  outline  of  the  main 
ideas  of  the  promise  itself,  let  me  ask  you  to  look, 
secondly,  at  the  other  thought  which  is  here,  namely,  that 
this  nnv  name  is  ujiknoivn  except  by  its  possessor. 

That,  of  course,  is  true  in  all  regions  of  human 
experience.  Did  ever  anybody  describe  a  taste  so  that  a 
man  that  had  not  tasted  the  thing  could  tell  what  it  was 
like  ?  Did  ever  anybody  describe  an  odour  so  as  to  do 
more  than  awaken  the  memory  of  some  one  who  had  once 
had  the  scent  lingering  on  his  nostrils  ?  Have  all  the 
poets  who  have  been  singing  from  the  beginning  of  the 
world  described  love  and  sorrow,  joy  and  hope,  and  fear, 
so  as  to  do  more  than  kindle  the  reminiscences  of  men 
as  to  their  own  sorrows  and  joys  ?  If  we  have  not  known 
the  love  of  a  child,  no  talking  will  ever  make  a  man  un- 
derstand what  a  father's  heart  is.      Religious  experiences 


VI.]  THE  NEW  NAME. 


91 


are  not  unlike  ordinary  human  experiences  in  this  matter. 
It  is  not  possible  to  communicate  them,  partly  by  reason 
of  the  imperfection  of  human  language,  partly  by  reason 
that  you  need  in  all  departments  sympathy  and  prior  know- 
ledge in  order  to  make  the  descriptions  significant  at  all. 

And  in  our  earthly  life,  though  your  faith  and  mine, 
dear  brethren,  and  our  joys  and  our  consciousness  of 
Christ's  love  are  all  weak  and  tremulous,  as  we  know, 
still  we  cannot  speak  them  fully  out ;  and  if  we  could, 
there  are  no  ears  to  hear  except  the  ears  of  those  who  are 
possessors  of  Hke  precious  faith.  The  law  applies  to  the 
heavens  as  well.  Not  till  we  get  there  shall  we  know. 
The  text  seems  to  imply  what  is  more  wonderful  still, 
that  though  there  shall  be  no  isolation  in  heaven,  which 
is  the  perfection  of  society,  there  may  be  incommunica- 
ble depths  of  blessed  experience  even  there.  Though 
appearance  and  reality  shall  accurately  coincide — though 
stammering  words,  breathed  through  the  vehicle  of 
language  which  has  its  roots  in  the  material  and  the 
sensuous,  and  so  never  lends  itself  kindly  to  spiritual 
things,  shall  have  passed  away — still  there  may  be  words 
impossible  for  a  man  to  utter ;  for  each  eye  shall  see  its 
own  brightness  in  God— and  amongst  the  "solemn  troops 
and  sweet  societies  "  of  heaven,  knit  together  in  a  close- 
.  ness  of  sympathy  and  union  of  which  we  have  no  experi- 
ence upon  earth,  there  shall  still  subsist  diversities  and 
distinctions.  Each  man  standing  at  his  own  angle  will 
see  his  own  side  of  the  light ;  it  will  be  enough  and  the 
same  for  all,  and  yet  different  in  each.  "  No  man  know- 
eth   saving   he   that   receiveth."     We   must   possess    to 


92         ^-  THE  NEW  NAME.  [SERM 

understand;  we  must  stand  before  the  throne' to  appre 
heiid,  and  after  countless  ages  we  shall  have  to  say — "  It 
doth  not  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be."  "We  shall  be  like 
him,  for  we  shall  see  him  as  he  is." 

III.  Finally,  my  text  gives  us  the  condition  and  the 
true  cause  of  possessing  this  new  nature.  The  new  name 
is  won  and  given. 

It  comes  as  the  reward  of  victory;  it  comes  as  a 
bestowment  from  Christ :  "  To  him  that  overcometh  will  I 
give.'*  And  it  seems  to  me  that  we  have  much  need  of 
trying  to  unite  these  two  thoughts  more  closely  together 
than  we  generally  do.  The  victory  is  a  condition.  It  is 
not  anything  more  than  a  condition.  People  talk  about 
heaven,  about  the  glories  there,  as  though  they  were  the 
natural  outcome  and  consequence  of  a  certain  course  of 
life  upon  earth.  By  no  means.  That  is  only  a  very 
fragmentary  truth.  Without  such  a  coiu-se,  or  rather  with- 
out the  disposition  that  underlies  such  a  course,  they  are 
not  attainable,  but  the  course  is  only  a  condition.  The 
real  cause  is  Christ's  bestowment.  I  believe  as  thoroughly 
as  any  man  can  in  the  application  of  the  idea  of  reward 
to  Christian  service,  but  I  believe  that  this  is  a  second- 
ary idea,  and  that  the  primary  one  is  "  The  gifi  of  God  is 
eternal  life  through  Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord."  I  believe 
that  all  outward  discipline,  and  labour,  and  sorrows,  and 
disappointments,  and  struggles,  the  efforts  that  we  make 
after  victory,  that  all  these  prepare  Christians,  and  make 
as  capable  of  receiving  the  gift.  I  believe  that  the  gift 
comes  only  out  of  His  infinite  and  undeserved,  and, 
God  be  thanked !  inexhaustible  forgiving  goodness  and 


VI.]  THE  NAW  NAME.  93 

mercy.  The  one  is,  if  I  may  so  say,  the  preparing  of  the 
cloth  for  the  dye,  and  after  that  you  have  the  application 
of  the  colour.  No  heaven  except  to  the  victor.  The 
victor  does  not  fight  his  way  into  heaven,  but  Christ  gives 
it  to  him.  And  when  you  and  I  stand  as,  God  be  thanked ! 
we  may  hope  to  stand  before  that  throne,  we  shall  forget 
all  about  rewardableness  and  reward,  and  say,  "Not  unto 
us,  O  Lord,  not  unto  us,  unto  thy  name "  we  give  glory. 
Thou  dost  give  me  the  grace  to  fight ;  thou  dost  teach 
my  hands  to  war ;  thou  dost  cover  my  head  in  the  day 
of  battle ;  it  is  thine  own  grace  in  me  that  thou  dost 
crown.  Thou  art  first,  and  last,  and  all — the  motive  and 
the  strength  of  the  conflict,  the  reward  and  the  rewarder 
of  the  victory.  All,  Lord  !  all  that  I  have  is  thine,  and 
mine  is  only  weakness,  and  sin,  and  defeat 

Dear  brethren,  make  your  choice.  Fight  you  must. 
Are  you  going  to  win  or  be  beaten  ?  Make  your  choice 
of  the  image  you  must  bear.  Whose?  "As  we  have 
borne  the  image  of  the  earthy,  we  shall  also  bear  the 
image  of  the  heavenly."  Loving  confidence  in  that 
Divine  Lord,  whose  name  is  the  clearest  utterance  for 
earth  and  heaven  of  the  name  of  God,  and  in  whom  our 
impotence  is  omnipotence,  strengthens  us  for  the  battle, 
and  will  crown  us  at  the  last.  They  that  know  Him  and 
love  Him  shall  be  like  Him,  and  they  that  are  like  Him 
shall  possess  in  their  deepest  souls  the  joy  that  in 
Heaven  shall  be  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory.  "  Eye 
hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither  have  entered  into 
the  heart  of  man,  the  things  which  God  hath  prepared  for 
them  that  love  Him." 


94 


SERMON    VIL 
^'S  O    DID    NOT    L* 

A   WORD   TO   THE   YOUNG. 


Nehemiah  V,  t$. 
So  did  not  I,  because  of  the  fear  of  God. 

HTHERE  are  few  nobler  characters,  even  among  the 
many  noble  ones  of  the  Old  Testament,  than  Nehe- 
miah, the  leader  of  the  restored  exiles.  He  was  no 
prophet — he  was  no  priest — he  made  no  pretension  to 
possessing  a  Divine  commission,  but  he  was  a  devout, 
resolute,  sagacious  man,  with  the  fear  of  God  in  his  soul 
and  Jerusalem  graven  on  his  inmost  heart  I  Prompt  and 
practical,  and  with  a  strong  dash  of  organizing,  govern- 
mental instinct,  there  was  yet  a  vein  of  poetry  in  him. 
He  was  bold  and  cautious,  prudent  yet  daring,  full  of 
ready  resource,  able  to  hold  his  tongue  and  bide  his  time; 
and  deep  down  below  all  this,  there  was  a  great  fountain 
of  enthusiasm,  which  was  called  forth  by  the  thoughts  of 
God  and  of  his  land  lying  in  desolation  and  ruin. 

These  touching  words  from  his  autobiography  which  I 
have  read  to  you  have  immediate  reference  to  a  very 
small  matter,  but  yet  they  let  us  into  the  secret  of  a  great 


*' so  nw  NOT  I,"*  95 


part  of  his  character.  His  predecessors,  the  representa 
tives  of  a  foreign  dominion,  had  been  in  the  habit  ol 
making  a  gain  of  their  office,  or  at  least  charging  the 
maintenance  of  the  cost  of  their  court  and  household  to 
the  people  already  impoverished  and  ground  down  by 
exactions.  Against  this  practice  he  makes  a  stand.  It 
was  a  little  thing,  but  Nehemiah  brought  a  great  principle 
to  bear  upon  it ;  and  though,  says  he,  it  was  a  legitimate 
source  of  gain  and  a  recognized  custom,  though  all  my 
predecessors  had  done  it,  and  though  there  was  nothing 
but  a  sentiment  to  stand  in  the  way  of  my  doing  it,  yet  / 
could  not  do  it  because — I  feared  God 

And  thus  we  get  from  the  simple  words  such  great 
thoughts  as  these.  How  the  loftiest  motive  may  regulate 
the  smallest  duties.  How  religious  principle,  as  we  call 
it  in  our  abstract  way,  or  "The  fear  of  God,"  as  Nehemiah 
called  it,  how  that  may  mterpenetrate,  will  interpenetrate, 
and  run  through  all  life,  and  find  a  field  for  its  noblest 
exercise  in  the  midst  of  commonplace  and  secular  duties  I 
How,  wheresoever  that  principle  is  strong  and  vigorous, 
a  man  will  have  to  make  up  his  mind  to  sturdy  non-com- 
pliance, to  dare  to  be  singular,  to  be  unlike  the  maxims 
and  examples  of  the  people  round  about  him,  and  how 
every  good  man  will  have  to  make  up  his  mind  to  give  up 
a  great  many  sources  of  gain  and  profit  and  pleasure  and 
advantage  for  no  more  tangible  reason  than  because  a 
more  sensitive  conscience  makes  that  which  other  men 
can  do  without  winking,  if  I  may  so  say,  a  crime  intoler- 
able to  him. 
It  is  possible,  young  men  and  women,  to  '*  make  the 


96  **S0  DID  NOT  /."  [SKRM. 

most  of  both  worlds ; "  but  all  true  religion  will  keep  a 
man  back  from  a  great  many  things  which  "  the  world  " 
thinks  "  the  best "  that  it  has.  "  So  did  not  I,  because  of 
the  fear  of  God."  I  think,  then,  I  may  venture  to  take 
these  words,  dismissing  altogether  now  any  further  refer- 
ence to  their  immediate  occasion,  as  the  basis  of  some 
very  simple  and  matter  of  course,  but,  I  hope,  earnest 
and  sincere  appeals  and  exhortations  to  my  younger 
friends  who  have  come  here  to-night  to  listen  to  me. 

I.  First,  let  me  put  the  main  principle  that  lies  here  in 
these  words  :  Nothing  will  go  right  unless  you  dare  to  be 
singular.     **  So  did  not  /." 

Howsoever  common  the  practice,  howsoever  innocent 
and  recognized  the  source  of  gain,  the  multitude  that  ap- 
proved it,  and  adopted  it,  was  nothing  to  me  j  I  had  to 
stand  on  my  own  feet,  and  look  through  my  own  eyes, 
and  be  guided  by  my  own  conscience,  and  make  my  own 
choice,  because  I  had  to  answer  for  it  at  the  last  Every- 
thing will  be  wrong  where  a  man  has  not  learnt — and  the 
sooner  you  begin  to  learn  it  the  better  for  your  lives  here 
and  yonder — the  great  art  of  saying  "  No." 

I  suppose  I  need  not  remind  you  that  in  all  regions  of 
life,  and  in  many  into  which  I  have  not  the  slightest  in- 
tention of  going  to-night,  that  habit,  in  various  forms,  lies 
at  the  bottom  of  all  that  is  worthy  and  noble  and  great 
and  good,  and  its  opposite  leads  to  all  that  is  ignoble, 
weak,  and  erroneous.  In  the  field  of  opinion,  the  lazy 
acquiescence  with  which  men  hand  their  ready-made  cut- 
and-dried  theories  and  thoughts  from  one  to  another,  and 
never  "look  the  gift-horse  in  the  mouth,"  but  swallow 


VII.]  "  so  DID  NOT  /.-  97 

the  thing  whole,  for  no  better  reason  than  that  contained 
in  the  cowardly  old  proverb  that  "  \Vhat  everybody  says 
must  be  true,"  is  the  fruitful  source  of  error,  hypocrisy, 
weakness,  and  misery.  Youth  is  the  time  to  form 
opinions — or  rather  to  learn  truth.  It  is  meant  that  you 
should  now,  with  the  honest  use  of  all  the  power  you  can 
I'.ommand,  canvass  and  decide  upon  the  Babel  of  var}'ing 
beliefs  around  you.  That  spirit  of  inquiry  which  is  so 
often  condemned  in  you,  may,  indeed,  degenerate  into 
self-conceited  rejection  of  things  ordinarily  believed,  or 
into  mere  love  of  singularity,  or  into  contented  doubt  of 
all  high  truth ;  but  if  it  be  absent  in  youth  there  will  be 
no  real  certitude  in  age.  No  man  has  any  belief  but 
what  he  wins  for  himself  as  the  captive  of  his  own  spear 
and  his  own  bow.  If  we  are  building  on  traditional 
opinion,  we  have  really  no  foundation  at  all.  Unless  the 
word  received  from  others  has  been  verified  by  ourselves, 
and  changed,  as  it  were,  mto  a  part  of  our  own  being,  we 
may  befool  ourselves  with  creeds  and  professions  to 
which  we  fancy  that  we  adhere,  but  we  have  no  belief 
whatsoever.  You  must  learn  to  look  with  your  own  eyes, 
and  not  through  the  spectacles  of  any  human  guides, 
authorities,  or  teachers  upon  the  mystic,  awful  verities  of 
this  strange  life,  and  upon  the  light  that  falls  on  them 
from  the  far-off  empyrean  above. 

But  these  are  not  the  thoughts  to  which  I  especially 
wish  to  direct  you.  The  chief  field  for  the  exercise  of 
this  resolute  non-compliance  with  common  practice  is  in 
the  region  of  moral  action,  in  the  daily  conduct  of  your 
lives.    There  it  is  most  needful  that  70U  should  take  this 

%  G 


98  ••  SO  DID  NOT  Z."  [SERM. 

for  your  motto,  "So  did  not  1,  because  of  the  fear  of 
God." 

Beginning  life  as  you  are,  you  have  already  found  out, 
no  doubt,  how  many  people  there  are  round  about  you, 
who  are  beacons  rather  than  examples,  and  how  many 
beckoning  hands  and  enticing  voices  seek  to  draw  you 
away.  You  have  no  doubt  felt — and,  perhaps,  some  of 
you  have  gone  far  enough  away  to  smile  at  yourselves 
when  you  remember — the  shock  of  surprise  and  pain 
when  first,  issuing,  it  may  have  been,  from  the  sheltered 
nest  of  your  father's  house  and  the  companionship  of  a 
mother's  purity,  you  plunged  into  this  rough  world,  and 
found  yourselves  in  actual  contact  with  people  such  as 
you  had  only  heard  of  before — with  profligates  or  scoffers, 
and  when  you  heard  with  your  own  ears  lightly  spoken 
words  of  unbelief  and  wickedness,  loose  talk  and  unclean 
jesting.  The  shock  cannot  last  long.  What  comes  after 
it  ?    Has  it  been  compliance  or  resistance  ? 

Let  me  remind  you  how  surely  he  who  yields  is  wrecked 
and  ruined.  The  absolute  necessity  for  this  sturdy 
resistance  is  plain  from  the  very  make  of  our  own  natures. 
There  is  a  host  of  inclinations  and  desires  in  every  man, 
which  will  hurry  him  to  destruction  unless  he  has  a  strong 
hand  on  the  brake.  "God  gave  them  to  thee  under  lock 
and  key " — ^and  it  is  at  our  peril  that  we  let  them  have 
sway.  "  I  do  it  because  I  choose "  is  the  fool's  reason, 
and  it  is  as  fatal  as  foolish. 

The  same  necessity  is  enforced  if  you  think  of  the 
order  of  things  in  which  we  dwell.  We  are  set  in  the 
midst  of  a  world  full  of  things  which  are  both  attractive 


VII.]  **S0  DID  NOT  /."  99 

and  bad,  and  which,  therefore,  alluring  though  they  may 
be  to  some  part  of  our  nature,  are  sternly  prohibited  by 
wisdom  and  lovingly  forbidden  by  God.  And  if  you  go 
careering  among  the  flowers  and  fruits  that  grow  around 
you  in  the  life  that  is  opening  before  you,  like  town 
children  turned  loose  for  a  day  in  the  woods,  picking 
whatever  is  bright  and  tasting  whatever  looks  as  if  it 
would  be  sweet,  you  will  poison  yourselves  with  night- 
shade and  hemlock. 

But  chiefly  the  need  of  saying  "  No  "  is  enforced  by  the 
fact  that  every  one  of  us  is  thrown  more  or  less  closely 
into  contact  with  people  who,  themselves,  are  living  as 
they  should  not,  and  who  would  fain  drag  us  after 
them. 

Young  men  !  you  know  how  much  of  that  devil's  work 
is  done  in  pretty  nearly  every  counting-house  and  ware- 
house in  Manchester,  every  day  of  the  week!  You 
know  how  many  there  are  that  curi  up  their  lips  to  a 
sneer  at  you  if  you  shyly  venture  to  speak  the  maxims 
that  your  fathers'  teaching  and  your  mothers'  entreatiei 
may  have  written  on  your  hearts. 

You  know  how  many  there  are  that  say  to  you,  some- 
times by  articulate  words,  and  still  more  frequently  by 
example,  "Come  with  us.  Cast  in  your  lot  with  us. 
Won't  you  go  with  us  to-night  to  the  theatre?  Won't 
you  go  with  us  to-morrow  to  some  other  haunt  of  dissipa- 
tion? What's  the  use  of  being  straight-laced?  Lefs 
have  our  fling.  Time  enough  to  be  better  when  we  get 
old.  No  harm  in  sowing  your  wild  oats  now.  All  those 
old  women's  notions  you  have  brought  from  home  with 


lOO  **S0  DID  NOT  /."  [SERM. 

you,  get  rid  of  them."  Most  of  you  will  understand  what 
I  mean  when  I  say  that,  if  a  young  man  comes  into  this 
city,  and  takes  his  place  at  desk  or  counter,  or  on  the 
benches  of  Owens  College,  and  there  forgets  resistance, 
sturdy  non-compliance,  and  heroic  daring  to  be  singular 
when  evil  tempts  him,  he  is  ruined  body  and  souL 

That  is  not  exaggeration,  as  anybody  who  watches  for 
a  few  years  has  sorrowful  reason  to  know.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  you  could  name  instances  of  young  men  in 
your  places  of  business — I  could  name  many  whom  I 
have  seen,  some  of  them  once  occupants  of  these  pews. 
I  have  seen  them  from  the  day  that  they  entered  theii 
situations,  fresh  and  buoyant,  "  innocent  of  much  trans- 
gression," and  "simple  concerning  evil."  And  I  have 
watched  them  grow  hard  and  reserved,  gradually  with- 
draw themselves  from  good  and  Christian  influences, 
exchange  their  simplicity  for  knowledge  which  was  bitter, 
sometimes  become  pale  and  haggard  and  old  before  their 
time — and  then  they  have  disappeared.  "  Where  is  he 
gone  }**  "  Oh,  he  got  into  a  bad  set ;  he  has  lost  his 
situation,  and  is  gone  abroad."  And  sometimes  the 
answer  is  :  "  Did  you  not  know  ?  he  went  home  ill — ^and 
he  is  dead."  Like  some  pleasure  boat  that  runs  out  of 
harboinr  with  a  careless  crew,  flags  flying  and  laughter 
sounding,  and  before  she  has  well  cleared  the  port  is 
smashed  to  pieces  on  the  black  shelf  of  rocks,  half  hid 
by  the  sunny  waters  as  they  break  over  it  in  dancing 
foam.  The  lesson  that  is  read  you  by  these  sad  careers 
cut  so  short  is  surely  that  one — "  Resist"  "  My  son,  if 
sinners  entire  thee,  consent  thou  not* 


m.]  •*S0  DID  NOT  /."  101 

Do  not  let  yourselves  be  laughed  out  of  your  reverence 
for  this  book,  and  the  God  that  it  tells  you  of  1  Do  not 
let  yourselves  be  coaxed  or  ridiculed  into  touching  for- 
bidden pleasures  !  Do  not  let  yourselves  be  talked,  or 
frightened,  or  swayed  by  the  mere  mass  of  evil  example 
out  of  your  true  path,  as  the  remoter  planets  may  be 
perturbed  in  their  orbits  by  that  huge  body  which  moves 
where  the  light  is  feeblest  on  the  outer  verge  of  the 
system  !  Stand  fast  on  your  own  ground.  If  need  be, 
take  the  grand  old  words  for  yours,  which  may  be  as 
nobly  illustrated  in  the  privacies  of  our  narrow  lives  as 
they  were  in  the  Diet  of  Worms :  "  Here  I  stand,  I  can 
do  naught  else.  God  help  me.  Amen."  And  if  all 
around  be  unfriendly  and  it  be  hard  to  resist  alone, 
remember — "  I  am  not  alone,  for  the  Father  is  mth  me." 

And  there  are  others  of  my  congregation  this  evening 
less  advanced  in  life  to  whom  I  would  say  the  same 
thing.  I  see  boys  and  girls  here,  home  from  school,  per- 
haps, on  whose  hearts  I  would  fain  leave  the  same 
impression.  You,  children,  know  how  in  your  little 
world — little  as  it  seems  to  us,  big  as  it  seems  to  you — 
it  is  often  very  difficult  not  to  follow  companions  and 
schoolfellows  when  they  are  doing  wrong.  I  believe  that 
it  is  harder  for  you  than  for  us  older  people  to  bear  being 
laughed  at,  and  not  to  do  what  everybody  else  is  doing. 
It  is  harder  for  you  than  for  us  to  look  past  what  is  round 
about  you.  But  you  know  quite  well  that  there  are 
things  done  and  said  at  school  and  in  the  playground 
that  you  would  not  like  your  father  or  mother  to  hear. 
Your  Father  in  heaven  hears  them  though,  and  that  is 


lOa  "SO  DID  NOT  /."  [SERM. 

worse.  Do  not  you  be  ashamed  to  say  "No"  when 
you  are  asked  to  make  one  in  such  things.  When  any- 
body says  to  you,  "  Come,  there 's  no  harm  in  it,"  you 
may,  generally,  be  sure  that  there  is  harm.  You,  too, 
have  to  fight  a  good  fight,  and  to  begin  early  to  refiise  to 
follow  a  multitude  to  do  evil.    You  cannot  begin  too  soon. 

For  us  all,  then,  in  every  period  of  life,  the  necessity  is 
the  same.  We  must  learn  to  say  "  No."  We  must  dare, 
if  need  be,  to  be  singular.  Like  the  young  Joseph,  when 
you  are  tempted  astray  by  seducing  voices,  let  your  answer 
be,  "  How  can  I  do  this  great  wickedness  and  sin  against 
God  ?"  Like  the  young  Daniel,  when  forbidden  pleasures 
and  questionable  delights  are  urged  upon  your  appetites, 
be  "  purposed  in  "  your  "  heart  that  "  you  "  will  not  defile  " 
yourself  with  them,  and  choose  pulse  and  water  with  the 
relish  of  a  good  conscience  rather  than  such  dainties. 
Like  the  same  Daniel,  when  the  crowd  are  flocking  at  the 
sound  of  the  sackbut  and  psaltery  to  worship  some  golden 
image,  keep  your  knees  unbent  amidst  the  madness,  learn 
to  stand  erect  though  you  alone  are  upright  in  the  midst 
of  a  grovelling  multitude,  and  protest,  "  We  will  not  serve 
thy  gods,  nor  worship  the  golden  image  which  thou  hast 
set  up."  Like  Nehemiah,  dare  to  lose  money  rather  than 
adopt  sources  of  profit  which  others  may  use  without  a 
thought,  but  which  your  conscience  shrinks  from  ;  and  to 
all  the  various  enticements  of  pleasure,  and  gain,  and 
ease,  and  popular  loose  maxims  for  the  conduct,  oppose 
immovable  resistance  founded  on  a  higher  law  and  a 
mightier  motive — "  So  did  not  I,  because  of  the  fear  ol 
God" 


Vn.]  ''SO  DID  NOT  /••  103 

But  still  further,  remember  that  not  only  does  easy 
yielding  to  these  enticements  bring  all  sorts  of  moral 
confusion  and  failure  into  a  man's  life,  but  that  such  com- 
flidnce  is  in  itself  weak  and  miworthy. 

The  appeal  which  I  have  been  making  to  conscience 
may  fall  comparatively  powerless  on  some  of  you.  Per- 
haps one  of  another  sort  may  have  force.  Surely,  then, 
I  may  urge  this  consideration — what  a  shame  it  is  that  a 
man  possessed  of  that  awful  power  which,  within  limits 
and  subject  to  conditions,  God  has  given  him,  of  shaping 
and  determining  his  character,  should  let  himself  be 
shaped  and  determined  by  the  mere  pressure  of  circum- 
stances and  accidental  associations !  What  a  shame  it  is, 
that  a  man  should  have  no  more  volition  in  what  he  does 
and  in  what  he  refrains  from  than  one  of  those  gelatinous 
creatures  that  float  about  in  the  ocean,  which  have  to 
move  wherever  the  current  takes  them,  though  it  be  to 
cast  them  upon  the  rocky  shore  with  an  ebbing  tide  I 
Surely  you  are  fit  for  something  better  than  that !  Surely 
it  was  not  meant  that  you  and  I  should  passively  receive 
and  yield  to  any  outward  impulses.  Modem  theorists 
seem  to  think  so — "  Circumstances  make  character  1 " 
The  theor)'  has  its  vindication,  alas  !  in  the  actual  lives 
of  the  great  bulk  of  men ;  but  that  that  should  be  so  is 
only  another  proof  of  the  weakness  and  depravity  of 
humanity,  in  which  the  will  is  paralyzed,  and  the  con- 
scious choice  is  so  seldom  exercised,  and  a  man  lets  the 
world  do  what  it  hkes  with  him.  How  many  of  us  are 
conscious  of  yielding  ourselves  up  to  the  influences  round 
about  us,  !^ith  no  better  reasons  than  because  they  are 


104  "SO  DID  NOT  /."  [SERM. 

there  !  You  take  on  the  colour  of  what  you  feed  on  I  la 
that  what  God  gave  you  a  will  for?  You  yield  to  the 
maxims  that  are  commoa  Is  it  for  that  that  God  put  a 
pair  of  eyes  into  your  head  and  a  brain  into  your  skull  ? 
You  take  the  course  of  life  that  is  forced  upon  you.  Is 
that  what  you  have  got  a  conscience  for,  that  you  should 
be  hke  those  creatures  in  the  lowest  region  of  organized 
life,  whom  the  microscopist  makes  visible  by  feeding  with 
some  coloured  material  which  absorb  and  tinges  their 
whole  filmy  unsubstantial  organization  ?  And  so  you  get 
the  colour  of  what  you  live  upon.  The  world  is  your 
mistress  and  makes  what  it  likes  of  you.  "With  her 
much  fair  speech  she  causeth  him  to  yield.  He  goeth 
after  her  straightway,  as  an  ox  goeth  to  the  slaughter,  or 
as  a  fool  to  the  correction  of  the  stocks ;  till  a  dart  strike 
through  his  liver;  as  a  bird  hasteth  to  the  snare,  and 
knoweth  not  that  it  is  for  his  life."  Surely  there  is 
nothing  walks  the  earth  more  contemptible,  as  well  as 
more  certainly  evil,  than  a  man  that  lets  himself  be  made 
by  whatever  force  may  happen  to  be  strongest  near  him, 
and,  fastening  up  his  helm  and  unshipping  his  oars,  is  con- 
tent to  be  blown  about  by  every  vagrant  wind,  and  rolled 
in  the  trough  of  each  curling  wave. 

Let  us  say,  finally,  on  this  part  of  my  subject,  that 
another  very  solemn  consideration  may  be  suggested,  en- 
forcing the  need  of  this  vigorous  non-compliance  with  the 
temptations  around  us,  fi^om  the  remembrance  of  what  a 
poor  excuse  for  wrong  doing  they  will  be  found  to  be  at 
last  I 

"  The  inducements  were  there,  and  I  fielded  to  them.** 


VII.]  **S0  DID  NOT  I."*  105 

It  is  the  old  story.  "  The  woman  tempted  me,  and  I  did 
eat."  Yes,  and  the  woman  has  to  bear  part  of  the  blame. 
But  how  about  ''I  did  eaiV  Was  there  anything  in  the 
temptation  to  compel  that  ?  Was  there  any  such  mingling 
up  of  the  two  wills,  as  that  because  she  was  wrong^  you 
must  needs  be  so  too?  Was  there  any  confusion  of  in- 
dividuality in  that  fashion  ?  Is  there  any  such  a  trans- 
ference of  responsibility  as  that  a  man  can  truly  say,  "  Oh, 
it  was  not  my  fault — I  was  tempted  ?  "  Yes,  you  were 
tempted.  Of  course,  we  are  all  that.  "It  was  not  my 
fault ! "  Whose  ivas  it  ?  Did  this  profligate  fellow-clerk 
at  the  next  desk  make  you  go  into  that  public  house? 
Did  that  other  one  make  you  stain  your  purity?  Did 
these  associates  compel  you,  young  man  or  woman  !  to  run 
with  them  into  the  paths  of  evil  ?  Did  that  classmate, 
schoolboy  or  girl !  force  you  to  do  wrong?  "  Every  one 
of  us  shall  give  account  of  himself  to  God,"  and  as  for  the 
companions  and  tempters,  "  They  shall  flee  every  one  of 
them  to  his  quarter"  (as  the  prophet  has  it  about  the 
evil  allies  of  the  evil  city,  when  it  came  to  its  ruin) — 
"  and  none  shall  save  thee  ! "  Every  man  shall  bear  his 
own  burden.  Alone  we  shall  stand  before  God !  Let  us 
have  the  courage  to  be  alone  here,  and,  when  necessary, 
say,  "  So  did  not  I,  because  of  the  fear  of  God." 

II.  And  now  there  is  another  consideration  to  which  I 
ask  your  attention.  If  such  thoughts  as  those  I  have 
been  submitting  to  you,  imperfect  as  they  are  upon  so 
great  a  subject,  may  yet  be  taken  as  something  like 
sufficient  vindication  of  the  principle,  that  for  all  worthv, 
noble  life,  sturdy  non-compliance  and  resistance  is  an 


Io6  **  SO  DID  NOT  I."  [SERM. 

absolute  necessity,  then  there  comes  a  second  con- 
sideration : 

You  cannot  resist  the  evil  around  you  unless  you  give  your- 
selves to  God.    "  So  did  not  I,  because  of  the  fear  of  God" 

I  need  not  dwell  upon  the  explanation  of  that  phrase. 
I  suppose  none  of  us  will  misunderstand  what  is  meant 
by  it  No  slavish  dread,  no  mere  far-oflf  reverence,  but  a 
livii^g  regard  for  Him,  which  is  at  once  fear  and  love, 
which  sways,  and  fills,  and  purifies  the  soul.  We  put  it, 
as  I  said,  into  more  abstract  form,  but  gain  nothing 
thereby,  when  we  say  this  resistance  must  be  based  upon 
"  religious  principle."  We  put  it  into  a  more  distinctly 
New  Testament  form  (not  in  the  slightest  degree  varying 
the  essential  force  and  meaning),  when  we  say  this  resist- 
ance must  be  based  upon,  and  flow  from,  faith  and  love 
directed  to  Jesus  Christ  The  fear  of  God  in  the  Old 
Testament  corresponds  precisely  to  the  more  fully  de- 
veloped faith  and  love  to  Christ,  who  is  the  express  image 
of  the  Divine  person  and  the  communicator  to  us  of  the 
Divine  strength,  upon  whom  we  have  to  cast  ourselves  I 
God  in  Christ,  trusted  in,  loved,  reverenced,  obeyed, 
imitated, — God  in  Christ  alone  strengthens  a  man  for 
this  resistance  and  non-compliance  ! 

I  need  not  spend  your  time  in  pointing  out  to  you 
what  we  all  know  well  enough  abready,  how  "by  strength 
shall  no  man  prevail"  How,  in  our  own  power  we  can- 
not successfiilly  nor  completely  resist  the  evil  influences 
that  pour  in  upon  us.  We  never  have  been,  and  so  we 
may  safely  conclude  that  we  never  shall  be,  able  to  do  so 
by  our  own  power.    You  have  tried  it,  how  have  you  got 


ni.]  '' so  DID  NOT  L**  107 

on?  Each  man's  experience  in  this  matter  is  a  transcript 
of  every  other's,  as  face  ansvvereth  to  face  in  a  glass. 
And  each  man's  experience  is  the  same  dreary  record  of 
partial  success  in  checking  some  single  specific  manifesta- 
tion of  evil,  and  of  entire  failure  in  dealing  with  the  deep 
source  from  which  these  come.  The  first  lesson  taught 
by  all  honest  attempts  to  put  in  practice  that  common- 
place of  all  morality  on  which  I  have  been  insisting,  is 
the  need  of  a  firm  anchorage  without  us,  if  we  are  not  to 
drift  on  a  lee  shore.  We  must  be  made  fast  to  some- 
thing that  is  fast,  if  we  are  not  to  be  swept  like  thistle- 
down before  the  wind.  It  is  easy  to  say  "  resist,"  but 
the  command  is  bitter  irony  unless  we  go  on  to  say  witli 
the  New  Testament,  "WTiom  resist  steadfast  in  the 
faith.**  No  man,  my  dear  brother,  can  stand  in  the 
slippery  places  where  we  have  to  go,  unless  he  have  the 
grasp  of  a  higher  and  stronger  hand  to  keep  him  up. 
No  man  will  ever  for  a  life-time  resist  and  repel  the 
domination  of  evil  unless  he  is  girded  about  with  the 
purity  of  Jesus  Christ,  as  an  atmosphere  in  which  all 
poisonous  things  fade  and  die,  and  through  which  no 
temptation  can  force  its  way.  The  only  means  for  this 
steadfast  resistance  is  a  steadfast  faith  in  Jesus  as  our 
Saviour.  He  has  assured  us  that  He  will  give  us  the 
victory.  "Yea,  he  shall  be  holden  up,  for  God  is  able 
to  make  him  stand."  In  the  strength  of  this  promise  I 
have  the  right  to  come  to  the  feeblest  here  and  say, 
"However  you  may  be  encompassed  by  evil,  however 
you  may  be  drawn  aside  by  evil  example  and  harming 
associations,  however  difficult  it  may  be  for  you  to  keep 


io8  **  SO  DJD  NOT  I."  [SERM 

your  footing  in  the  midst  of  the  rush  and  swirl  of  that 
great  tide  of  sin,  here  is  a  hand  that  you  may  grasp,  and 
grasping  will  be  strong."  And  that,  for  three  reasons, 
each  of  which  is  mighty,  and  all  of  which,  taken  together, 
are  omnipotent. 

In  Christ  we  have  an  all-sufficient  pattern.  I  have  been 
saying  it  is  at  our  peril  that  we  imitate  men.  There  is  a 
man  whom  it  is  safe  and  blessed  and  noble  and  peace  and 
love  and  perfectness  to  imitate — the  man,  Christ  Jesus. 
There  is  a  man  to  whom  all  the  instincts  which  lead  us 
to  follow  the  example  of  men  around  us,  and  which  so 
often  lead  us  astray,  may  be  directed  without  fear,  yea, 
rather  with  the  happiest  results.  There  is  no  need  why 
we  should  seek  in  any  other  a  pattern  when  we  can  read, 
"  Leaving  us  an  example  that  we  should  follow  His 
steps."  "  So  did  not  I,  because  of  the  fear  of  God."  So 
did  I,  because  my  Master  had  done  it  before  me.  The 
one  command  which  contains  the  whole  of  Christian 
duty,  the  whole  law  of  moral  perfectness  attainable  by 
man,  is,  **  Be  ye  imitators  of  God,  as  beloved  children, 
and  walk  as  Christ  hath  walked." 

That  fear  of  God,  which  is  all  transfused  and  mingled 
with  the  love  of  Him,  gives  us,  next,  all-powerful  motive. 
Love  delights  to  please ;  fear  dreads  to  disobey ;  and 
when  the  pressure  strong  and  constant  of  these  exam- 
ples round  about  us  is  forcing  itself  in  upon  us,  we  have 
but  to  think  of  a  mightier  Companion,  whose  smile  is 
better  than  all  other  approbations,  whose  condemnation 
is  a  pain  that  no  other  approval  can  ever  efface.  "  He 
endured  as  seeing  Him  who  is  invisible." 


vil]  ••so  did  not  /.•  109 

And,  finally,  the  fear  of  God  strengthens  us  for  resist- 
ance, because  it  gives  us  an  omnipotent  potver  within 
ourselves  whereby  we  resist.  "  The  law  of  the  Spirit  of 
life  in  Christ  Jesus  hath  made  me  free  from  the  law  of 
sin  and  death."  We  are  not  lef^  to  the  following  of  an 
example  that  is  set  us  from  afar.  That  is  the  baldest 
notion,  a  mere  humanitarian  notion  of  the  influence  of 
Christ  and  His  work.  We  are  not  left  to  the  influence  of 
the  motives  of  love  and  fear  built  upon  the  recognition  of 
His  sacrifice,  great  and  blessed  as  these  motives  are — 
that  is  a  less  imperfect,  but  still  an  imperfect,  concep- 
tion of  the  Gospel.  The  whole  truth  embraces  both 
of  these,  and  adds  to  them  that  mighty  fact  that  we 
have  a  Divine  helper  breathing  His  grace  and  strength 
into  us  We  have,  therefore,  not  merely  to  urge  you  to 
imitate  the  example  of  Christ,  nor  only  to  commend 
to  your  faith  the  love  of  Christ  as  manifested  on  the 
cross,  that  it  may  subdue  by  its  constraining  influences 
the  hardness  and  loftiness  of  our  own  evil  hearts,  but  we 
have  to  point  to  Christ  who  died  for  us  as  the  source  of 
all  our  hope  and  the  sacrifice  for  all  our  sins,  and  the  all- 
powerful  motive  of  loving  obedience  \  to  Christ  who  lived 
among  us  as  the  perfect  Ideal  of  manhood ;  to  Christ 
who  is  exalted  at  God's  right  hand  as  shedding  forth  this 
wondrous  gift  of  a  sanctifying  Spirit,  in  whose  strength 
we  are  strong,  and  by  whose  help  we  can  resist  There- 
fore^ because,  apart  from  Christ,  we  have  no  wholly 
trustworthy  guide  for  even  the  most  honest  efforts,  nor 
any  motive  powerful  enough  to  counterwork  the  baser 
inducements  which  the  world  offers  to  drag  us  down  by, 


no  ^*  so  DID  NOT  i: 


nor  any  inward  power  to  lift  ourselves  by  ourselves — a 
feat  as  impossible  in  moral  as  in  bodily  gymnastics — 
therefore,  if  we  seek  to  resist,  we  must  be  "  strong  in  tlie 
Lord  and  in  the  power  of  his  might"  "  The  love  of 
Christ  constraineth  us  ;  because  we  thus  judge,  that  if  one 
died  for  all,  then  were  all  dead :  and  that  he  died  for 
all,  that  they  which  live  should  not  henceforth  live  unto 
themselves,  but  unto  him  which  died  for  them  and  rose 
again." 

Do  not  you  go  on  this  warfare  at  your  own  charges, 
nor  while  you  are  but  putting  on  the  armour  boast  your- 
self as  he  that  putteth  it  off.  If  you  do,  you  will  c  jrtainly 
be  beaten,  and  led  away  from  the  field  a  prisoner. 
Forsaking  self,  trust  yourself  wholly  to  Christ,  and  having 
yielded  your  soul  to  Him  as  a  sinful  creature  who  needs 
pardon  for  the  past  as  well  as  power  for  the  future,  let 
His  love  sway  your  heart,  and  His  example  be  your 
mark,  and  His  Spirit  your  strength.  As  the  secret  of  all 
negative  forbearance  from  evil  take  for  your  watchword, 
"  So  did  not  I,  because  of  the  fear  of  God."  As  the 
secret  of  all  positive  allegiance  to  God,  let  your  motto  be, 
"  The  love  of  Christ  constraineth  me."  Then  the  noble 
picture  of  what  a  youthful  soul  may  be  will  be  fulfilled  in 
you — "  Ye  are  strong,  and  the  word  of  God  abideth  in 
you,  and  ye  have  overcome  the  evil  one." 

Wilt  thou  not  from  this  time  say,  "  My  Father  1  Thou 
Ajt  ihe  guide  of  my  youth"? 


SERMON    VIII. 

A  1>ARK  PICTURE  AND  A  BRIGHT  HOPE. 


Ephesians  It,  23. 

That  ye  put  off  concerning  the  former  conversation  the  old  man, 
which  is  corrupt  according  to  the  deceitful  lusts. 

T  F  a  doctor  knows  that  he  can  cure  a  disease,  he  can 
afford  to  give  full  weight  to  its  gravest  symptoms. 
If  he  knows  he  cannot,  he  is  sorely  tempted  to  say  it  is 
of  slight  importance,  and,  though  it  cannot  be  cured,  can 
be  endured  without  much  discomfort 

And  so  the  Scripture  teachings  about  man's  real  moral 
condition  are  characterized  by  two  peculiarities  which, 
at  first  sight,  seem  somewhat  opposed,  but  are  really 
harmonious  and  closely  connected.  There  is  no  book 
and  no  system  in  the  whole  world  that  takes  such  a  dark 
view  of  what  you  and  I  are ;  there  is  none  animated  with 
so  bright  and  confident  a  hope  of  what  you  and  I  may 
become.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  the  common  run  of 
thought  amongst  men  minimizes  the  fact  of  sin.  But 
when  you  say,  "  Well,  be  it  big  or  little,  can  I  get  rid  of 
it  anyhow  ? "  there  is  no  answer  to  give  that  is  worth 
listening  ta    Christ  alone  can  venture  to  tell  men  what 


112  A   DARK  PICTURE  [SERM 

they  are,  because  Christ  alone  can  radically  change  their 
whole  nature  and  being.  There  are  certain  diseases  of 
which  a  constant  symptom  is  unconsciousness  that  there 
is  anything  the  matter.  A  deep-seated  wound  does  not 
hurt  much.  The  question  is  not  whether  Christian 
thoughts  about  a  man's  condition  are  gloomy  or  not,  but 
whether  they  are  true.  As  to  their  being  gloomy,  it 
seems  to  me  that  the  people  who  complain  of  our  doctrine 
of  human  nature,  as  giving  a  melancholy  view  of  men,  do 
really  take  a  far  more  melancholy  one.  We  believe  in  a 
fall,  and  we  believe  in  a  possible  and  actual  restoration. 
The  man  to  whom  evil  is  not  an  intrusive  usurper  can 
have  no  confidence  that  it  will  ever  be  expelled.  Which 
is  the  gloomy  system — that  which  paints  in  undisguised 
blackness  the  facts  of  life,  and  over  against  their  blackest 
darkness  the  radiant  light  of  a  great  hope  shining  bright 
and  glorious,  or  one  that  paints  humanity  in  a  uniform 
monotone  of  indistinguishable  grey  involving  the  past, 
the  present,  and  the  future — which,  believing  in  no 
disease,  hopes  for  no  cure  ?  My  text,  taken  in  conjunc- 
tion with  the  grand  words  which  follow,  about  "  The  new 
man,  which,  after  God,  is  created  in  righteousness  and 
true  holiness,"  brings  before  us  some  very  solemn  views 
(which  the  men  that  wai;t  them  most  realize  the  least) 
with  regard  to  what  we  are,  what  we  ought  to  be  and 
cannot  be,  and  what,  by  God's  help,  we  may  become. 
The  old  man  is  "  corrupt  according  to  the  deceitful  lusts," 
says  Paul.  There  are  a  set  of  characteristics,  then,  of  the 
universal  sinful  human  self  Then  there  comes  a  hope- 
lets  commandment — a  mockery — if  we  are  to  stop  with 


VIII.]  AND  A  BRIGHT  HOPE,  1 13 

it,  "  put  it  off."  And  then  there  dawns  on  us  the  blessed 
hope  and  possibility  of  the  fulfilment  of  the  injunction, 
when  we  learn  that  "  the  truth  in  Jesus "  is,  that  we  put 
off  the  old  man  with  his  deeds.  Such  is  a  general  outline 
of  the  few  thoughts  I  have  to  suggest  to  you. 

I.  I  wish  to  fix,  first  of  all,  upon  the  very  significant, 
though  brief,  outline  sketch  of  the//r/j  of  universal  sinful 
hunia?i  nature  which  the  Apostle  gives  here. 

These  are  three,  upon  which  I  dilate  for  a  moment  or 
two.  "The  old  man"  is  a  Pauline  expression,  about 
which  I  need  only  say  here  that  we  may  take  it  as 
meaning  that  form  of  character  and  life  which  is  common 
to  us  all  apart  from  the  great  change  operated  through 
faith  in  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  universal,  it  is  sinful.  There 
is  a  very  remarkable  contrast,  which  you  will  notice, 
between  the  verse  upon  which  I  am  now  commenting 
and  the  following  one.  The  old  man  is  set  over  against 
the  fiew.  One  is  created,  the  other  is  corrupted^  as  the 
word  might  be  properly  rendered.  The  one  is  created 
after  God,  the  other  is  rotting  to  pieces  under  the  influ- 
ence of  its  lusts.  The  one  consists  of  righteousness  and 
holiness,  which  have  their  root  in  truth;  the  other  is 
under  the  dominion  of  passions  and  desires,  which,  in 
themselves  evil,  are  the  instruments  of  and  are  character- 
ized by  deceit. 

The  first  of  the  characteristics,  then,  of  this  sinful  self, 
to  which  I  wish  to  point  for  a  moment  is,  that  every 
Christless  life,  whatsoever  the  superficial  differences  in  it, 
is  really  a  life  shaped  according  to  and  under  the 
influence  of  passionate  desires.     You   see   I   venture  to 

3  « 


114  A  DARK  PICTURE  [SERM, 

alter  one  word  of  my  text,  and  that  for  this  simple 
reason :  the  word  "  lusts "  has,  in  modem  English, 
assumed  a  vety  much  narrower  signification  than  either 
that  of  the  original  has,  or  than  itself  had  in  English 
when  this  translation  was  made.  It  is  a  very  remarkable 
testimony,  by  the  by,  to  the  weak  point  in  the  bulk  of 
men — to  the.  side  of  their  nature  which  is  most  exposed 
to  assaults — that  this  word,  which  originally  meant  strong 
desire  of  any  kind,  should,  by  the  observation  of  the 
desires  that  are  strongest  in  the  mass  of  people,  have  got 
to  be  restricted  and  confmed  to  the  one  specific  meaning 
of  strong  animal,  fleshly,  sensuous  desires.  It  may  point 
a  lesson  to  some  of  my  congregation,  and  especially  to  the 
younger  portion  of  the  men  in  it  Remember,  my 
brother,  that  the  part  of  your  nature  which  is  closest  to 
the  material  is  likewise  closest  to  the  animal,  and  is  least 
under  dominion  (without  a  strong  and  constant  effort)  of 
the  power  which  will  save  the  flesh  from  corruption,  and 
make  the  material  the  vehicle  of  the  spiritual  and  divine. 
Many  a  young  man  comes  into  Manchester — and  there 
are  some  of  them  in  this  chapel  now — with  the  atmos- 
phere of  a  mother's  prayers  and  a  father's  teaching  round 
about  him;  with  holy  thoughts  and  good  resolutions 
beginning  to  sway  his  heart  and  spirit;  and  flaimting 
profligacy,  and  seducing  tongues  beside  him  in  the 
counting-house,  in  the  warehouse,  and  at  the  shop  counter, 
lead  him  away  into  excesses  that  banish  all  these,  and, 
after  a  year  or  two  of  riot  and  sowing  to  the  flesh,  he  of 
tlie  flesh  reaps  corruption.  And  that  very  literally — 
in  sunken  eye,  and  trembling  hand,  and  hacking  cougli^ 


viil]  and  a  bright  hope,  1 1 5 

and  a  grave  opened  for  him  before  his  time.  Ah,  my 
dear  young  friends  !  "  they  promise  them  liberty."  It  is 
a  fine  thing  to  get  out  of  your  father's  house,  and  away 
from  the  restrictions  of  the  society  where  you  are  known, 
and  loving  eyes — or  unloving  ones — are  watching  you. 
It  is  a  fine  thing  to  get  into  the  freedom  and  irrespon- 
sibility of  a  big  city !  "  They  promise  them  liberty,"  and 
"  they  themselves  become  the  bond  slaves  of  corruption." 
But,  then,  that  is  only  the  grossest  and  the  lowest  form 
of  the  truth  that  is  here.  Paul's  indictment  against  us  is 
not  anything  so  exaggerated  and  extreme  as  that  the 
animal  nature  predominates  in  all  who  are  not  Christ's. 
That  is  not  true,  and  is  not  what  my  text  says.  But 
what  it  says  is  just  this :  that,  given  the  immense 
varieties  of  tastes  and  likings  and  desires  which  men 
have,  the  point  and  characteristic  feature  of  every  godless 
life  is  that,  be  these  what  they  may,  they  become  the 
dominant  power  in  that  life.  He  does  not,  of  course, 
deny  that  the  sway  and  tyranny  of  such  lusts  and  desires 
are  sometimes  broken  by  remonstrances  of  conscience  \ 
sometimes  suppressed  by  considerations  of  prudence; 
sometimes  by  habit,  by  business,  by  circumstances  that 
force  people  into  channels  into  which  they  would  not 
naturally  let  their  lives  run.  He  does  not  deny  that 
often  and  often  in  such  a  life  there  will  be  a  dim  desire 
for  something  better — that  high  above  the  black  and 
tumbling  ocean  of  that  life  of  corruption  and  disorder, 
there  lies  a  calm  heaven  with  great  stars  of  duty  shining 
in  it  He  does  not  deny  that  men  are  a  law  to  them- 
selves, as  well  as  a  bundle  of  desires  which  they  obey  ; — 


(i6  A  DARK  PICTURE  [SERM. 

but  what  he  charges  upon  us,  and  what  I  venture  to  bring 
as  an  indictment  against  you,  and  myself  too,  is  this  : 
that  apart  from  Christ  it  is  not  conscience  that  rules  our 
lives ;  that  apart  from  Christ  it  is  not  sense  of  duty  that  is 
strongest;  that  apart  from  Christ  the  real  directing  impulse 
to  which  the  inward  proclivities,  if  not  the  outward 
activities,  do  yield  in  the  main  and  on  the  whole,  is,  as 
this  text  says,  the  things  that  we  like,  the  passionate 
desires  of  nature,  the  sensuous  and  godless  heart 

And  you  say,  "  Well,  if  it  is  so,  what  harm  is  it  ?  Did 
not  God  make  me  with  these  desires,  and  am  not  I  meant 
to  gratify  them  ?"  Yes,  certainly.  The  harm  of  it  is, 
first  of  all,  this,  that  it  is  an  inversion  of  the  true  order. 
The  passionate  desires  about  which  I  am  speaking,  be 
they  for  money,  be  they  for  fame,  or  be  they  for  any 
other  of  the  gilded  baits  of  worldly  joys — these  passionate 
dislikes  and  likings,  as  well  as  the  purely  animal  ones — 
the  longing  for  food,  for  drink,  for  any  other  physical 
gratification, — these  were  never  meant  to  be  men's  guides. 
They  are  tueant  to  be  impulses.  They  have  got  motive 
power,  but  no  directing  power.  Do  you  start  engines  out 
of  the  Victoria  Station  without  drivers  or  rails  to  run 
upon  ?  It  would  be  as  reasonable  as  that  course  of  life 
which  men  pursue  who  say,  "  Thus  I  wish ;  thus  I  com- 
mand ;  let  my  desire  stand  in  the  place  of  other  argumen- 
tation and  reason."  They  take  that  part  of  their  nature 
that  is  meant  to  be  under  the  guidance  of  reason  and 
conscience  looking  up  to  God,  and  put  it  in  the  supreme 
place,  and  so,  setting  a  beggar  on  horseback,  ride  where 
we  know  such  equestrians  are  said  in  the  end  to  go ) 


Till.]  AND  A  BRIGHT  HOPE.  II 7 

The  desires  are  meant  to  be  impelling  powers.  It  is 
absurdity  and  the  destruction  of  true  manhood  to  make 
them,  as  we  so  often  do,  directing  powers,  and  to  put 
the  reins  into  their  hand.  They  are  the  wind,  not  the 
helm  ;  the  steam,  not  the  driver.  Let  us  keep  things  n 
their  right  places.  Remember  that  the  constitution  oi 
human  nature,  as  God  has  meant  it,  is  this  :  down  there, 
under  hatches,  under  control,  the  strong  impulses ;  above 
them,  the  enlightened  understanding  ;  above  that,  the  con- 
science— that  has  a  loftier  region  than  that  of  thought  to 
move  in,  the  moral  region ;  and  above  that,  the  God, 
whose  face,  shining  down  upon  the  apex  of  the  nature 
thus  constituted,  irradiates  it  with  light  which  filters 
through  all  the  darkness,  down  to  the  very  base  of  the 
being ;  and  sanctifies  the  animal,  and  subdues  the  im- 
pulses, and  enlightens  the  understandings,  and  calms 
and  quickens  the  conscience,  and  makes  ductile  and 
pliable  the  will,  and  fills  the  heart  \^^th  fruition  and 
tranquillity,  and  orders  the  life  after  the  image  of  Him 
that  created  it. 

I  cannot  dwell  any  longer  upon  this  first  point ;  but  I 
hope  that  I  have  said  enough,  not  to  show  that  the  words 
are  true — that  is  a  very  poor  thing  to  do,  if  that  was  all 
that  I  aimed  at — but  to  bring  them  home  to  some  of  our 
hearts  and  consciences.  1  pray  God  to  impress  the  con- 
viction that,  although  there  be  in  us  all  the  voice  of  con- 
science, which  all  of  us  more  or  less  have  tried  at  inter- 
vals to  follow ;  yet  in  the  main  it  abides  for  ever  true — 
and  it  is  true,  my  dear  brethren,  about  you — a  Christless 
life  is  a  life  under  the  dominion  of  tyrannous  desires. 


Il8  A  DARK  PICTURE  [SERM. 

Ask  yourself  what  I  cannot  for  you,  Is  it  I  ?  My  hand 
fumbles  about  the  hinges  and  handle  of  the  door  of  the 
heart  You  yourself  must  open  it  and  let  conviction 
come  in ! 

Still  further,  the  words  before  us  add  another  touch 
to  this  picture.  They  not  only  represent  the  various 
passionate  desires  as  being  the  real  guides  of  "the  old 
man,"  but  they  give  this  other  characteristic — that  these 
desires  are  in  their  very  nature  the  instruments  of  deceit 
and  lies. 

The  words  of  my  text  are,  perhaps,  rather  enfeebled  by 
the  form  of  rendering  which  our  translators  have  here,  as 
in  many  cases,  thought  proper  to  adopt  If,  instead  of 
reading  "corrupt  according  to  the  deceitful  lusts,"  we 
read  "corrupt  according  to  the  desires  of  deceit,"  we 
should  have  got  not  only  the  contrast  between  the  old 
man  and  the  new  man,  "created  in  righteousness  and 
holiness  of  truth  " — ^but  we  should  have  had,  perhaps,  a 
clearer  notion  of  the  characteristic  of  these  lusts,  which 
the  Apostle  meant  to  bring  into  prominence.  These 
desires  are,  as  it  were,  the  tools  and  instruments  by  which 
deceit  betrays  and  mocks  men ;  the  weapons  used  by 
illusions  and  lies  to  corrupt  and  mar  the  souL  They  are 
strong,  and  their  nature  is  to  pursue  after  their  objects 
without  regard  to  any  consequences  beyond  their  own 
gratification;  but,  strong  as  they  are,  they  are  like  the 
blinded  Samson,  and  will  pull  the  house  down  on  them- 
selves if  they  be  not  watched.  Their  strength  is  excited 
on  false  pretences.  They  are  stirred  to  grasp  what  is 
after  all  a  lie.     They  are  "  desires  of  deceit" 


VIII. J  AND  A  BRIGHT  HOPE,  II9 

That  just  points  to  the  truth  of  all  such  life  being  hollow 
and  profitless.  If  regard  be  had  to  the  whole  scope  of 
our  nature  and  necessities,  and  to  the  true  aim  of  life  as 
deduced  therefrom,  nothing  is  more  certain  than  that  no 
man  will  get  the  satisfaction  that  his  ruling  passions 
promise  him,  by  indulging  them.  It  is  very  plain  that 
the  w^ay  never  to  get  what  you  need  and  desire,  is  always 
to  do  what  you  like. 

And  that  for  very  plain  reasons.  Because,  for  one 
thing,  the  object  only  satisfies  for  a  time.  Yesterday's 
food  appeased  our  hunger  for  the  day,  but  we  wake  hun- 
gry again.  And  the  desires  which  are  not  so  purely 
animai  have  the  same  characteristic  of  being  stilled  for 
the  moment,  and  of  waking  more  ravenous  than  ever. 
"He  that  drink eth  of  this  water  shall  thirst  again." 
Because,  further,  the  desire  grows  and  the  object  of  it 
does  not.  The  fierce  longing  increases,  and,  of  course, 
the  power  of  the  thing  that  we  pursue  to  satisfy  it  de- 
creases in  the  same  proportion.  It  is  a  fixed  quantity  ; 
the  appetite  is  indefinitely  expansible.  And  so,  the  longer 
I  go  on  feeding  my  desire,  the  more  I  long  for  the  food ; 
and  the  more  I  long  for  it,  the  less  taste  it  has 
when  I  get  it  It  must  be  more  strongly  spiced  to 
titilate  a  jaded  palate.  And  there  soon  comes  to  be 
an  end  of  the  possibilities  in  that  direction.  A  man 
scarcely  tastes  his  brandy,  and  has  little  pleasure  in 
drinking  it,  but  he  cannot  do  without  it,  and  so  he  gulps 
it  down  in  bigger  and  bigger  draughts  till  delirium  tremens 
comes  in  to  finish  it.  Because,  for  another  thing,  after 
all,  these  desires  are  each  but  a  fragment  of  whole  nature, 


I20  A  DARK  PICTURE  [SERll 

and  when  one  is  satisfied  another  is  bajring  to  be  fed. 
The  grim  brute,  like  the  watc  hdog  of  the  old  mythology, 
has  three  heads,  and  each  gaping  for  honey  cakes.  And 
if  they  were  all  gorged,  there  are  other  longings  in  men's 
nature  that  will  not  let  them  rest,  and  for  which  all  the 
leeks  and  onions  of  Egypt  are  not  food.  So  long  as  these 
are  unmet,  you  "  spend  your  money  for  that  which  is  not 
bread,  and  your  labour  for  that  which  satisfieth  not." 

So  we  may  lay  it  down  as  a  universal  truth,  that  whoever 
takes  it  for  his  law  to  do  as  he  likes  will  not  for  long  like 
what  he  does.     Or,  as  George  Herbert  says, 

"Shadows  well  mounted,  dreams  in  a  career, 
Embroider'd  lies,  nothing  between  two  dishes— 
These  are  the  pleasures  here." 

Do  any  of  you  remember  the  mournful  words  with 
which  one  of  our  greatest  modem  writers  of  fiction  closes 
his  saddest,  truest  book :  "  Ah !  vanitas  vanitatum  1 
Which  of  us  is  happy  in  this  world  ?  which  of  us  has  his 
desire?  or,  having  it,  is  satisfied?"  No  wonder  that 
with  such  a  view  of  human  life  as  that,  the  next  and  last 
sentence  should  be,  "  Come,  children,  let  us  shut  up  the 
box  and  the  puppets,  for  the  play  is  played  out."  Yes  ! 
if  there  be  nothing  more  to  follow  than  the  desires  which 
deceive,  man's  life,  with  all  its  bustle  and  emotion,  is  a 
subject  for  cynical  and  yet  sad  regard,  and  all  the  men 
and  women  that  toil  and  fret  are  "  merely  players." 

Then,  again,  one  more  point  in  this  portraiture  of  "  the 
old  man,"  is  that  these  deceiving  desires  corrupt.  The 
language  of  our  text  conveys  a  delicate  shade  of  meaning 
which  is  somewhat  blurred  in  our  version.     Properly,  it 


viil]  and  a  bright  hope,  1 2 1 

speaks  of  "  the  old  man  which  is  growing  corrupt "  rathei 
than  "  which  is  corrupt,"  and  expresses  the  steady  advance 
of  that  inward  process  of  decay  and  deterioration  which 
is  ever  the  fate  of  a  life  subordinated  to  these  desires. 
And  this  growing  evil,  or  rather  inward  eating  corruption 
which  disintegrates  and  destroys  a  soul,  is  contrasted  in 
the  subsequent  verse  with  the  "  new  man  which  is  created 
in  righteousness."  There  is  in  the  one  the  working  of 
life,  in  the  other  the  working  of  death.  The  one  is  formed 
and  fashioned  by  the  loving  hands  and  quickening  breath 
of  God  ;  the  other  is  gradually  and  surely  rotting  away  by 
the  eating  leprosy  of  sin.  For  the  former  the  end  is 
eternal  life ;  for  the  latter  the  second  death. 

And  the  truth  that  underlies  that  awful  representation 
is  the  familiar  one  to  which  I  have  already  referred  in 
another  connection,  that,  by  the  very  laws  of  our  nature, 
by  the  plain  necessities  of  the  case,  all  our  moral  qualities, 
be  they  good  or  bad,  tend  to  increase  by  exercise.  In 
whatever  direction  we  move,  the  rate  of  progress  tends  to 
accelerate  itself.  And  this  is  pre-eminently  the  case  when 
the  motion  is  downwards.  Every  day  that  a  bad  man 
lives  he  is  a  worse  man.  My  friend  !  you  are  on  a  sloping 
descent  Imperceptibly — because  you  will  not  look  at 
the  landmarks — but  really,  and  not  so  very  slowly  either; 
convictions  are  dying  out,  impulses  to  good  are  be- 
coming feeble,  habits  of  neglect  of  conscience  are 
becoming  fixed,  special  forms  of  sin — avarice,  or  pride, 
or  lust — are  striking  their  claws  deeper  into  your  soul, 
and  holding  their  bleeding  booty  finner.  In  all  regions 
of   life    exercise   strengthens    capacity.      The    wrestler. 


122  A  DARK  PICTURE  [SERM. 

according  to  the  old  Greek  parable,  who  began  by 
carrying  a  calf  on  his  shoulders,  got  to  carry  an  ox 
by  and  by. 

It  is  a  solemn  thought  this  of  the  steady  continuous 
aggravation  of  sin  in  the  individual  character.  Surely 
nothing  can  be  small  which  goes  to  make  up  that  rapidly 
growing  total.  Beware  of  the  little  beginnings  which 
"eat  as  doth  a  canker."  Beware  of  the  slightest 
deflection  from  the  straight  line  of  right  If  there  be 
two  lines,  one  straight  and  the  other  going  off  at  the 
sharpest  angle,  you  have  only  to  produce  both  far 
enough,  and  there  will  be  room  between  them  for  all 
the  space  that  separates  hell  from  heaven !  Beware  of 
lading  your  souls  with  the  weight  of  small  single  sins. 
We  heap  upon  ourselves,  by  slow,  steady  accretion 
through  a  lifetime,  the  weight  that,  though  it  is  gathered 
by  grains,  crushes  the  soul.  There  is  nothing  heavier 
than  sand.  You  may  lift  it  by  particles.  It  drifts  in 
atoms,  but  heaped  upon  a  man  it  will  break  his  bones, 
and  blown  over  the  land  it  buries  pyramid  and  sphynx, 
the  temples  of  gods  and  the  homes  of  men  beneath  its 
barren  solid  waves.  The  leprosy  gnaws  the  flesh  off  a 
man's  bones,  and  joints  and  limbs  drop  off— he  is  a  living 
death.  So  with  every  soul  that  is  under  the  dominion  of 
these  lying  desires — it  is  slowly  rottmg  away  piecemeal, 
"  waxing  corrupt  according  to  the  lusts  of  deceit" 

II.  Note  how,  this  being  so,  we  have  here  the  hopeless 
command  to  put  off  the  old  man. 

That  command  "  put  it  off"  is  the  plain  dictate  of  con- 
science and  of  common  sense.     But  it  seems  as  hopeless 


VIII.]  AND  A  BRIGHT  HOPE,  1 23 

as  it  is  imperative.  I  suppose  everybody  feels  sometimes, 
more  or  less  distinctly,  that  they  ought  to  make  an  effort 
and  get  rid  of  these  beggarly  usurpers  that  tyrannize  over 
will,  and  conscience,  and  life.  Attempts  enough  are 
made  to  shake  off  the  yoke.  We  have  all  tried  some  time 
or  other.  Our  days  are  full  of  foiled  resolutions,  attempts 
that  have  broken  down,  unsuccessful  rebellions,  ending 
like  the  struggles  of  some  snared  wild  creature,  in 
wrapping  the  meshes  tighter  round  us.  How  many 
times,  since  you  were  a  boy  or  a  girl,  have  you  said — 
"  Now  I  am  determined  that  I  will  never  do  that  again. 
I  have  flung  away  opportunities.  I  have  played  the  fool 
and  erred  exceedingly — but  I  now  turn  over  a  new 
leaf ! "  Yes,  and  you  have  turned  it — and,  if  I  might  go 
on  with  the  metaphor,  the  first  gust  of  passion  or  tempta- 
tion has  blown  the  leaf  back  again,  and  the  old  page  has 
been  spread  before  you  once  more  just  as  it  used  to  be. 
The  history  of  individual  souls  and  the  tragedy  of  the 
world's  history  recurring  in  every  age,  in  which  the 
noblest  beginnings  lead  to  disastrous  ends,  and  each  new 
star  of  promise  that  rises  on  the  horizon  leads  men  into 
quagmires  and  sets  in  blood,  sufficiently  show  how  futile 
the  attempt  in  our  own  strength  to  overcome  and  expel 
tlie  evils  that  are  rooted  in  our  nature. 

Moralists  may  preach,  "  Unless  above  himself  he  can 
erect  himself,  how  mean  a  thing  is  man;"  but  all  the 
preaching  in  the  world  is  of  no  avail.  The  task  is  an 
impossibility.  The  stream  cannot  rise  above  its  source, 
nor  be  purified  in  its  flow  if  bitter  waters  come  from  the 
fountain.      ""Who   can  bring  a  clean   thing   out   of  an 


124  A  DARK  PICTURE  [SERM 

unclean  ?**  There  is  no  power  in  human  nature  to  cast 
off  this  clinging  self.  As  in  the  a\vful  vision  of  the  poet, 
the  serpent  is  grown  into  the  man.  The  will  is  feeble  for 
good,  the  conscience  sits  like  a  discrowned  king  issuing 
empty  mandates,  while  all  his  realm  is  up  in  rebellion, 
and  treats  his  proclamations  as  so  much  waste  paper. 
How  can  a  man  re-make  himself?  how  cast  off  his  own 
natiu-e  ?  The  means  at  his  disposal  themselves  need  to 
be  cleansed,  for  themselves  are  tainted.  It  is  the  old 
story — who  will  keep  the  keepers? — who  will  heal  the 
sick  physicians?  You  will  sometimes  see  a  wounded 
animal  licking  its  wounds  with  its  own  tongue.  How 
much  more  hopeless  still  is  our  effort  by  our  own  power 
to  staunch  and  heal  the  gashes  which  sin  has  made ! 
"  Put  oflf  the  old  man  " — yes — and  if  it  but  clung  to  the 
limbs  like  the  hero's  poisoned  vest,  it  might  be  possible. 
But  it  is  not  a  case  of  throwing  aside  clothing,  it  is 
stripping  oneself  of  the  very  skin  and  flesh— and  if  there 
is  nothing  more  to  be  said  than  such  vain  commonplaces 
of  impossible  duty,  then  we  must  needs  abandon  hope, 
and  wear  the  rotting  evil  till  we  die. 

But  that  is  not  all  **  ^Vhat  the  law  could  not  do,  in 
that  it  was  weak  through  the  flesh,  God  sending  his  own 
Son  did — He  condemned  sin  in  the  flesh."  So  we 
come  to 

III.  Tfie  Possibility  of  fulfilling  the  Command. 

The  context  tells  us  how  this  is  possible.  The  law,  the 
pattern,  and  the  power  for  complete  victory  over  the  old 
sinful  self,  are  to  be  found,  "as  the  truth  is — ^m  Jesus." 
Union  with  Christ  gives  us  a  real  possession  of  a  new 


VIII.]  AND  A  BRIGHT  HOPE.  1 25 

principle  of  life,  derived  from  Him,  and  like  His  owti. 
That  real,  perfect,  immortal  life,  which  hath  no  kindred 
with  evil,  and  flings  off  pollution  and  decay  from  its  pure 
surface,  will  wrestle  with  and  finally  overcome  the  living 
death  of  obedience  to  the  deceitful  lusts.  Our  weakness 
will  be  made  vigorous  by  His  inbreathed  power.  Our 
gravitation  to  earth  and  sin  will  be  overcome  by  the  yearn- 
ing of  that  life  to  its  source.  An  all  constraining  motive 
wall  be  found  in  love  to  Him  who  has  given  Himself  for 
us.  A  new  hope  will  spring  as  to  what  may  be  possible 
for  us  when  we  see  Jesus,  and  in  Him  recognize  the  true 
Man,  whose  image  we  may  bear.  We  shall  die  with  Him 
to  sin,  when,  resting  by  faith  on  Him  who  has  died  for 
sin,  we  are  made  comformable  to  His  death,  that  we  may 
walk  in  newness  of  life.  Faith  in  Jesus  gives  us  a  share 
in  the  working  of  that  mighty  power  by  which  He  makes 
all  things  new.  The  renovation  blots  out  the  past,  and 
changes  the  direction  of  the  future.  The  fountain  in  our 
hearts  sends  forth  bitter  waters  that  cannot  be  healed. 
"  And  the  Ix)rd  showed  him  a  tree,"  even  that  cross 
whereon  Christ  was  crucified  for  us,  "  which,  when  he  had 
cast  into  the  waters,  the  waters  were  made  sweet." 

I  remember  a  rough  parable  of  Luther's,  grafted  on  an 
older  legend,  on  this  matter,  which  runs  somewhat  in 
this  fashion  : — A  man's  heart  is  like  a  foul  stable. 
Wheelbarrows  and  shovels  are  of  little  use,  except  to  re- 
move some  of  the  surface  filth,  and  to  litter  all  the 
passages  in  the  process.  What  is  to  be  done  with  it? 
"  Turn  the  Elbe  into  it,"  says  he.  1  he  flood  will  sweep 
away  all  the  pollution.     Not  my  oun  eftnrrs.  but  the  influx 


126       A  DARK  PICTURE  AND  A  BRIGHT  HOPE, 

of  that  pardoning,  cleansing  grace  which  are  in  Christ 
will  wash  away  the  accumulations  of  years,  and  the 
ingrained  evil  which  has  stained  every  part  of  my  being. 
We  cannot  cleanse  ourselves,  we  cannot  "  put  off"  this 
old  nature  which  has  struck  its  roots  so  deep  into  our 
being;  but  if  we  turn  to  Him  with  faith  and  say — Forgive 
me,  and  cleanse,  and  strip  from  me  the  foul  and  ragged 
robe  fit  only  for  the  swine-troughs  in  the  far-off  land  of 
disobedience,  He  will  receive  us  and  answer  all  our 
desires,  and  cast  around  us  the  pure  garment  of  His  own 
righteousness.  "  The  law  of  the  spirit  of  life  in  Christ 
Jesus  shall  make  us  free  from  the  law  of  sin  and  death." 


127 


SERMON     IX. 

THE   NEW  MAN. 


Ephesians  iv,  24. 

And  that  ye  put  on  the  new  man,  which  afler  Go(£  is  created  io 
righteousness  and  true  holiness. 

"1 1 /"E  had  occasion  to  remark  in  a  former  sermon,  that 
Paul  regards  this  and  the  preceding  clauses  as  the 
summing  up  of  "  the  truth  in  Jesus  "-,  or,  in  other  words, 
he  considers  the  radical  transformation  and  renovation  of 
the  whole  moral  nature  as  being  the  purpose  of  the  rcve 
lation  of  God  in  Christ.  To  this  end  they  have  **  heard 
Him."  To  this  end  they  have  **  learned  Him."  To  this 
end  they  have  been  "  taught  in  Him,"  receiving,  by  union 
with  Him,  all  the  various  processes  of  His  patient  disci- 
pline. This  is  the  inmost  meaning  of  all  the  lessons  in 
that  great  school  in  which  all  Christians  are  scholars,  and 
Christ  is  the  teachei  and  the  theme,  and  union  to  Him  the 
condition  of  entrance,  and  the  manifold  workings  of  His 
providence  and  His  grace  the  instruments  of  training — 
and  heaven  the  home  when  school  tijne  is  over — that  we 
should  become  new  men  in  Christ  Jesus, 

This  great  practical  issue  is  set  fortli  here  imdei  tluec 


128  THE  NEW  MAN,  [SERM 

aspects — one  negative,  two  positive.  The  negative  pro- 
cess is  single  and  simple — "  put  off  the  old  man."  The 
positive  is  double — a  spiritual  "  renewal  "  effected  in  oui 
spirits,  in  the  deep  centre  of  our  personal  being,  by  that 
Divine  Spirit  who,  dwelling  in  us,  is  "the  Spirit  of  our 
minds";  and  then,  consequent  upon  that  inward  renewal, 
a  renovation  of  life  and  character,  which  is  described  as 
being  the  "  putting  on,"  as  if  it  were  a  garment,  of  "  the 
new  man,"  created  by  a  Divine  act,  and  consisting  in 
moral  and  spiritual  likeness  to  God.  It  is  not  necessary 
to  deal,  except  incidentally,  with  the  two  former,  but  1 
desire  to  consider  the  last  of  these — the  putting  on  of  the 
new  man — a  little  more  closely,  and  to  try  to  bring  out 
the  wealth  and  depth  of  the  Apostle's  words  in  this  won- 
derful text 

The  ideas  contained  seem  to  me  in  brief  to  be  these — 
the  great  purpose  of  the  Gospel  is  our  moral  renewal ; 
that  moral  renewal  is  a  creation  after  God's  image ;  that 
new  creation  has  to  be  put  on  or  appropriated  by  us ;  the 
great  means  of  appropriating  it  is  contact  with  God's  truth. 
Let  us  consider  these  points  in  order. 

I.  The  great  purpose  of  the  Gospel  is  our  moral  Renewal; 
"  the  new  man  .  .  .  created  in  righteousness  and  .  .  . 
holiness." 

Now,  of  course,  there  are  other  ways  of  putting  the  end 
of  the  Gospel.  This  is  by  no  means  an  exhaustive  setting 
forth  of  its  purpose.  We  may  say  that  Christ  has  come 
in  order  that  men  may  know  God.  VVe  may  say  that  He 
comes  in  order  that  the  Divine  love,  which  ever  delights 
to  communicate,  may  bestow  itself,  and  may  conceive  of 


rx.]  THE  NE  W  MAN,  1 2  9 

the  whole  majestic  series  of  acts  of  self-revelation  from  the 
beginning  as  being — if  I  may  so  say — for  the  gratification 
of  that  impulse  to  impart  itself,  which  is  the  characteristic 
of  love  in  God  and  man.  We  may  say  that  the  purpose 
of  the  whole  is  the  deliverance  of  men  from  the  burden 
and  guilt  of  sin.  But  whether  we  speak  of  the  end  of  the 
Gospel  as  the  glory  of  God,  or  the  blessedness  of  man,  01 
as  here,  as  being  the  moral  perfection  of  the  individual  or 
of  the  race,  they  are  all  but  various  phrases  of  the  one 
complete  truth.  The  Gospel  is  the  consequence  and  the 
manifestation  of  the  love  of  God,  which  delights  to  be 
known  and  possessed  by  loving  souls,  and  being  known 
changes  them  into  its  own  likeness,  which  to  know  is  to 
be  happy,  which  to  resemble  is  to  be  pure. 

The  first  thing  that  strikes  me  about  this  representation 
of  our  text  is  ^t  profound  sense  of  human  sinfulness  which 
underlies  it 

The  language  is  utterly  unmeaning — or  at  all  events 
grossly  exaggerated — ^unless  all  have  sinned,  and  the 
nature  which  belongs  to  men  universally,  apart  from  the 
transforming  power  of  Christ's  spirit,  be  corrupt  and  evil. 
And  that  it  is  so  is  the  constant  view  of  Scripture.  The 
Bible  notion  of  what  men  need  in  order  to  be  pure  and 
good  is  very  different  from  the  superficial  notions  of 
worldly  moralists  and  philanthropists.  We  hear  a  great 
deal  about  "  culture,"  as  if  all  that  were  needed  were  the 
training  and  strengthening  of  the  nature,  as  if  what  was 
mainly  needed  was  the  development  of  the  understanding. 
We  hear  about  "reformation"  from  some  who  look 
rather  deeper  than  the  superficial  apostles  of  culture. 

3 


I30  THE  NEW  MAN,  [SERM. 

And  how  singularly  the  very  word  proclaims  the  in- 
sufficiency of  the  remedy  which  it  suggests  !  "  Re-forma- 
tion "  affects  form  and  not  substance.  It  puts  the  old 
materials  into  a  new  shape.  Exactly  so — and  much  good 
may  be  expected  from  that  !  They  are  the  old  materials 
still,  and  it  matters  comparatively  little  how  they  are 
arranged.  It  is  not  re-formation,  but  re-novation,  or,  to 
go  deeper  still,  re-generation,  that  the  world  needs ;  not 
new  forms,  but  a  new  life ;  not  the  culture  and  develop- 
ment of  what  it  has  in  itself,  but  extirpation  of  the  old 
by  the  infusion  of  something  new  and  pure  that  has  no 
taint  of  corruption,  nor  any  contact  with  evil  "  Verily, 
I  say  unto  you,  ye  must  be  bom  again." 

All  slighter  notions  of  the  need  and  more  superficial 
diagnosis  of  the  disease  lead  to  a  treatment  with  palliatives 
which  never  touch  the  true  seat  of  the  mischief.  The 
poison  flowers  may  be  plucked,  but  the  roots  live  on. 
It  is  useless  to  build  dykes  to  keep  out  the  w41d  waters. 
Somewhere  or  other  they  will  find  a  way  through.  The 
only  real  cure  is  that  which  only  the  Creating  hand  can 
effect,  who,  by  slow  operation  of  some  inward  agency, 
can  raise  the  level  of  the  low  lands,  and  lift  them  above 
the  threatening  waves.  What  is  needed  is  a  radical 
transformation,  going  down  to  the  very  roots  of  the 
being;  and  that  necessity  is  clearly  implied  in  the 
language  of  this  text,  which  declares  that  a  nature 
possessing  righteousness  and  holiness  is  "a  new  man" 
to  be  "  put  on "  as  from  without,  not  to  be  evolved  as 
from  within. 

It  is  to  be  further  noticed  what  tlu  ApostU  spedJUs  as 


IX.]  THE  NEW  MAN, 


131 


the  dements^  or  characteristics  of  this  new  nature — right- 
eousness and  holiness. 

The  proclamation  of  a  new  nature  in  Christ  Jesus, 
great  and  precious  truth  as  it  is,  has  often  been  connected 
with  teaching  which  has  been  mystical  in  the  bad  sense 
of  that  word,  and  has  been  made  the  stalking  horse  of 
practical  immorality.  But  here  we  have  it  distinctly 
defined  in  what  that  new  nature  consists.  There  is  no 
vague  mystery  about  it,  no  tampering  with  the  idea  of 
personality.  The  people  who  put  on  the  new  man  are 
the  same  people  after  as  before.  The  newness  consists 
in  moral  and  spiritual  characteristics.  And  these  are  all 
summed  up  in  the  two — righteousness  and  holiness.  To 
which  is  added  in  the  substantially  parallel  passage  in 
Colossians,  "  Renewed  in  knowledge  after  the  image  of 
him  that  created  him,"  where,  I  suppose,  we  must  regard 
the  "knowledge"  as  meaning  that  personal  knowledge 
and  acquaintance  which  has  its  condition  in  love,  and  is 
the  foundation  of  the  naore  purely  moral  qualities  of  which 
our  text  speaks. 

Is  there,  then,  any  distinction  between  these  two?  I 
think  there  is  very  obviously  so.  "Righteousness"  is, 
I  suppose,  to  be  understood  here  in  its  narrower  meaning 
of  observance  of  what  is  right,  the  squaring  of  conduct 
according  to  a  solemn  sovereign  law  of  duty.  Sub- 
stantially it  is  equivalent  to  the  somewhat  heathenish 
word  "morality,"  and  refers  human  conduct  and 
character  to  a  law  or  standard.  What,  then,  is 
"holiness"?  It  is  the  same  general  conduct  and 
character,  considered,  however,   under  another  aspect, 


133  THE  NEW  MAN,  [SERM. 

and  in  another  relation.  It  involves  the  reference  of 
life  and  self  to  God,  consecration  to,  and  service  of  Him. 
It  is  not  a  mere  equivalent  of  purity,  but  distinctly  carries 
the  higher  reference.  The  obedience  now  is  not  to  a  law 
but  to  a  Lord.  The  perfection  now  does  not  consist  in 
conformity  to  an  ideal  standard,  but  in  likeness  and 
devotion  to  God.  That  which  I  ought  to  do  is  that 
which  my  Father  in  heaven  wills.  Or,  if  the  one  word 
may  roughly  represent  the  more  secular  word  "  morality," 
the  other  may  roughly  represent  the  less  devout  phrase, 
"  practical  religion." 

These  are  "  new,"  as  actually  realized  in  human  nature. 
Paul  thinks  that  we  shall  not  possess  them  except  as  a 
consequence  of  renovatioa  But  they  are  not  "  new  **  m 
the  sense  that  the  contents  of  Christian  morality  are 
different  from  the  contents  of  the  law  written  on  men's 
hearts.  The  Gospel  proclaims  and  produces  no  fantastic 
ethics  of  its  own.  The  actions  which  it  stamps  in  its 
mint  are  those  which  pass  current  in  all  lands — not  a 
provincial  coinage,  but  recognized  as  true  in  ring,  and  of 
full  weight  everywhere.  Do  not  fancy  that  Christian 
righteousness  is  different  from  ordinary  "  goodness,"  ex- 
cept as  being  broader  and  deeper,  more  thorough  going, 
more  imperative.  Divergencies  there  are,  for  our  law  is 
more  than  a  republication  of  the  law  written  on  men's 
hearts.  Though  the  one  agrees  with  the  other,  yet  the 
area  which  they  cover  is  not  the  same.  The  precepts  of 
the  one,  like  some  rock-hewn  inscriptions  by  forgotten 
kings,  are  weathered  and  indistinct,  often  illegible,  often 
misread,  often  neglected.    The  other  is  written  in  living 


IX.]  THE  NEW  MAN,  I33 

characters  in  a  perfect  life.  It  includes  all  that  the  former 
attempts  to  enjoin,  and  much  more  besides.  It  alters 
the  perspective,  so  to  speak,  of  heathen  morals,  and 
brings  into  prominence  graces  overlooked  or  despised  by 
them.  It  breathes  a  deeper  meaning  and  a  tenderer 
beauty  into  the  words  which  express  human  conceptions 
of  virtue,  but  it  does  take  up  these  into  itself.  And 
instead  of  setting  up  a  "  righteousness  "  which  is  peculiar 
to  itself,  and  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  world's  morality, 
Christianity  says,  as  Christ  has  taught  us,  "  Except  your 
righteousness  exceed  the  righteousness  of  the  scribes  and 
Pharisees,  ye  shall  not  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God." 
The  same  apostle  who  here  declares  that  actual  right- 
eousness and  holiness  are  new  things  on  the  earth,  allows 
full  force  to  whatsoever  weight  may  be  in  the  heathen 
notion  of  "  virtue,"  and  adopts  the  words  and  ideas  which 
he  found  ready  made  to  his  hands,  in  that  notion — as 
fitly  describing  the  Christian  graces  which  he  enjoined. 
Grecian  moralists  supplied  him  with  the  names  true, 
honest,  just,  and  pure.  His  "righteousness"  accepted 
these  as  included  within  its  scope.  And  we  have  to  re- 
member that  we  are  not  invested  with  that  new  nature, 
unless  we  are  living  in  the  exercise  of  these  common  and 
familiar  graces  which  the  consciences  and  hearts  of  all 
the  world  recognize  for  "  lovel/'  and  "  of  good  report," 
hail  as  "  virtue,"  and  crown  with  "  praise." 

So,  then,  let  me  pause  here  for  a  moment  to  urge  you 
to  take  these  thoughts  as  a  very  sharp  and  salutary  test 
You  call  yourselves  Christian  people.  The  purpose  of 
youi  Christianity  is  your  growth  and  perfecting  in  simple 


134  THE  NEW  MAN.  [SERM. 

purity,  and  devotion  to,  and  dependence  on,  our  loving 
Father.  Our  religion  is  nothing  unless  it  leads  to  these. 
Otherwise  it  is  like  a  plant  that  never  seeds,  but  may 
bear  some  feeble  blossoms  that  drop  shrunken  to  the 
ground  before  they  mature.  To  very  many  of  us  the  old 
solemn  remonstrance  should  come  with  awakening 
force — "  Ye  did  run  well,  what  did  hinder  you  ?"  You 
have  apprehended  Christ  as  the  reveal er  and  bringer  of 
the  great  mercy  of  God,  and  have  so  been  led  in  some 
measure  to  put  your  confidence  in  Him  for  your  salvation 
and  deliverance.  But  have  you  apprehended  Him  as 
the  mould  into  which  your  life  is  to  be  poured,  that  life 
having  been  made  fluent  and  plastic  by  the  warmth  of 
His  love  ?  You  have  apprehended  Him  as  your  refuge  ; 
have  you  apprehended  Him  as  your  inward  sanctity? 
You  have  gone  to  Him  as  the  source  of  salvation  from 
the  guilt  and  penalties  of  sin  ;  have  you  gone  to  Him,  and 
are  you  daily  growing  in  the  conscious  possession  of  Him, 
as  the  means  of  salvation  from  the  corruption  and  evil  of 
sin  ?  He  comes  to  make  us  good.  What  has  He  made 
you?  Anything  different  from  what  you  were  twenty 
years  ago  ?  Then,  if  not,  and  in  so  far  as  you  are  un- 
changed and  unbettered,  the  Gospel  is  a  failure  for  you, 
and  you  are  untrue  to  it.  The  great  purpose  of  all  the 
work  of  Christ — His  life,  His  sorrows,  His  passion,  His 
resurrection.  His  glory.  His  continuous  operation  by  the 
Spirit  and  the  Word — is  to  make  new  men  who  shall  be 
just  and  devout,  righteous  and  holy. 

n.  A  second  principle  contained  in  these  words,  is  that 
this  moral  Renewal  is  a  Creation  in  the  image  of  God. 


IX.]  THE  NEW  MAN.  I35 

The  new  man  is  "  created  after  the  image  of  God  " — 
that  is,  of  course,  according  to  or  in  the  likeness  of  God. 
There  is  evident  reference  here  to  the  account  of  man's 
creation  in  Genesis,  and  the  idea  is  involved  that  this  new 
man  is  the  restoration  and  completion  of  that  earlier 
likeness,  which,  in  some  sense,  has  faded  out  of  the 
features  and  form  of  our  sinful  souls.  It  is  to  be  re- 
membered, however,  that  there  is  an  image  of  God 
inseparable  from  human  nature,  and  not  effaceable  by 
any  obscuring  or  disturbance  caused  by  sin.  Man's 
likeness  to  God  consists  in  his  being  a  person,  possessed 
of  a  will  and  self-consciousness.  And  that  mysterious 
gift  of  personality  abides  whatever  perishes.  But  beyond 
that  natural  image  of  God,  as  we  may  call  it,  there  is 
something  else  which  fades  wholly  with  the  first  breath 
of  evil,  like  the  reflexion  of  the  sky  on  some  windless 
sea.  The  natural  likeness  remains,  and  without  it  no 
comparison  would  be  possible.  We  should  not  think  of 
saying  that  a  stone  or  an  eagle  were  unlike  God.  But 
while  the  personal  being  makes  comparison  fitting,  what 
makes  the  true  contrast  ?  In  what  respect  is  man  unlike 
God  ?  In  moral  antagonism.  What  is  the  true  likeness  ? 
Moral  harmony.  What  separates  men  from  their  Father 
in  heaven?  Is  it  that  His  "years  are  throughout  all 
generations,"  and  "my  days  are  as  an  handbreadth"? 
Is  it  that  His  power  is  infinite,  and  mine  all  thwarted  by 
other  might  and  ever  tending  to  weakness  and  extinc- 
tion ?  Is  it  that  His  wisdom,  sunlike,  waxes  not  nor 
wanes,  and  there  is  nothing  hid  from  its  beams,  while  my 
knowledge,   like    the   lesser    light,   shines   by  reflected 


136  THE  NEW  MAN.  [SERM. 

radiance,  serves  but  to  make  the  night  visible  and  is 
crescent  and  decaying,  changeful  and  wandering  ?  No. 
All  such  distinctions  based  upon  what  people  call  the 
sovereign  attributes  of  God — the  distinctions  of  creator 
and  created,  infinite  and  finite,  omnipotent  and  weak, 
eternal  and  transient — make  no  real  gulf  between  God 
and  man.  If  we  have  only  to  say,  "  As  the  heavens  are 
higher  than  the  earth,  so  are  "  his  "  ways  higher  than  " 
our  "  ways,  "  that  difference  is  not  unlikeness,  and  estab- 
lishes no  separation ;  for  low  and  flat  though  the  dull 
earth  be,  does  not  heaven  bend  down  round  it,  and  send 
rain  and  sun,  dew  and  blessing  ?  But  it  is  because 
"  your  ways  are  not  as  my  ways" — ^because  there  is  actual 
opposition,  because  the  directions  are  different — that  there 
is  unlikeness.  The  image  of  God  lies  not  only  in  that 
personality  which  the  "  Father  of  Lies  "  too  possesses, 
but  in  "  righteousness  and  holiness." 

But  besides  this  reference  to  the  original  creation  of 
man,  there  is  another  reason  for  the  representation  of  the 
new  nature  as  being  a  work  of  Divine  creative  power.  It 
is  in  order  to  give  the  most  emphatic  expression  possible 
to  the  truth  that  we  do  not  make  our  righteousness  for 
ourselves,  but  receive  it  as  from  Him.  The  new  man  is 
not  our  work,  it  is  God's  creation.  As  at  the  beginning, 
the  first  human  life  is  represented  as  not  originated  in  the 
line  of  natural  cause  and  effect,  but  as  a  new  and  super- 
natural commencement,  so  in  every  Christian  soul  the  life 
which  is  derived  fi-om  God,  and  will  unfold  itself  in  His 
likeness,  comes  fi-om  His  own  breath  inbreathed  into  the 
nostrils.     It  too  is  out  of  the  line  of  natural  causes.     It 


IX.]  THE  NEW  MAN.  1 37 

too  is  a  direct  gift  from  God.    It  too  is  a  true  supernatural 
being — a  real  and  new  creation. 

May  I  venture  a  step  further  ?  "  The  new  man "  is 
spoken  of  here  as  if  it  had  existence  ere  we  "put  it  on." 
I  do  not  press  that,  as  if  it  necessarily  involved  the  idea 
which  I  am  going  to  suggest,  for  the  peculiar  form  of  ex- 
pression is  probably  only  due  to  the  exigencies  of  the 
metaphor.  Still  it  may  not  be  altogether  foreign  to  the 
whole  scope  of  the  passage,  if  I  remind  you  that  the  new 
man,  the  true  likeness  of  God,  has,  indeed,  a  real  existence 
apart  from  our  assumption  of  it  Of  course,  the  righteous- 
ness and  holiness  which  make  that  new  nature  in  me 
have  no  being  till  they  become  mine.  But  we  believe 
that  the  righteousness  and  holiness  which  we  make  ours 
come  from  another,  who  bestows  them  on  us.  "The 
new  man  "  is  not  a  mere  ideal,  but  has  a  historical  and  a 
present  existence.  The  ideal  has  lived  and  lives,  is  a 
human  person,  even  Jesus  Christ  the  express  image  of  the 
Father,  who  is  the  beginning  of  the  new  creation,  who  of 
God  is  made  unto  us  wisdom  and  righteousness.  That 
fair  \nsion  of  a  humanity  detached  from  all  consequences 
of  sin,  renewed  in  perfect  beauty,  stainless  and  Godlike, 
is  no  unsubstantial  dream,  but  a  simple  fact.  He  ever 
liveth.  His  word  to  us  is  "  I  counsel  thee  to  buy  of  me — 
white  raiment"  And  a  full  parallel  to  the  words  of  our 
text,  which  bid  us  "  put  on  the  new  man,  created  after 
God  in  righteousness  and  holiness,"  is  found  in  the  other 
words  of  the  same  apostle — "  Let  us  cast  off  the  works  of 
darkness,  and  let  us  put  on  the  armour  of  light  Put  ye 
on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ" 


138  THE  NEW  MAN.  [SERM. 

In  accordance  with  this — 

III.  It  is  further  to  be  noticed  that  this  new  creation 
has  to  be  put  on  and  appropriated  by  us. 

The  same  idea  which,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  is 
conveyed  by  the  image  of  a  new  creation,  is  reiterated  in 
this  metaphor  of  putting  on  the  new  nature,  as  if  it  were 
a  garment  Our  task  is  not  to  weave  it,  but  to  wear  it 
It  is  made  and  ready. 

And  that  process  of  assumption  or  putting  on  has  two 
parts.  We  are  clothed  upon  with  Christ  in  a  double 
way,  or  rather  in  a  double  sense.  We  are  "  found  in  him 
not  having  our  own  righteousness,"  but  invested  with  His 
for  our  pardon  and  acceptance.  We  are  clothed  with  His 
righteousness  for  our  purifying  and  sanctifying. 

Both  are  the  conditions  of  our  being  like  God.  Both 
are  the  gifts  of  God.  The  one,  however,  is  an  act ;  the 
other  a  process.  Both  are  received.  The  one  is  received 
on  condition  of  simple  faith  ;  the  other  is  received  by  the 
medium  of  faithful  effort.  Both  are  included  in  the  wide 
conception  of  salvation,  but  the  law  for  the  one  is  "  not 
by  works  of  righteousness  which  we  have  done,  but  by 
his  mercy  he  saved  us ;"  and  the  law  for  the  other  is — 
"  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling." 
Both  come  from  Christ  But  for  the  one  we  have  the 
invitation,  "  Buy  of  me  white  raiment  that  thou  mayest  be 
clothed ;"  and  for  the  other  we  have  the  command,  "Put 
on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  make  not  provision  for  the 
flesh."  There  is  the  assumption  of  His  righteousness 
which  makes  a  man  a  Christian,  and  has  for  its  condition 
simple  faith.     There  is  the  assumption  of  His  righteous- 


IX.]  THE  NEW  MAN,  1 39 

ness  sanctifying  and  transforming  us  which  follows  in  a 
Christian  course,  as  its  indispensable  accompaniment  and 
characteristic,  and  that  is  realized  by  daily  and  continuous 
effort. 

And  one  word  about  the  manner,  the  effort  as  set  forth 
here.  Twofold,  as  I  have  already  pointed  out — a  nega- 
tive and  positive.  We  are  not  concerned  here  with  the 
relations  of  these  amongst  themselves,  but  1  may  remark 
that  there  is  no  growth  in  holiness  possible  without  the 
constant  accompanying  process  of  excision  and  crucifixion 
of  the  old.  If  you  want  to  grow  purer  and  liker  Christ, 
you  must  slay  yourselves.  You  cannot  gird  on  "righteous- 
ness "  above  the  old  self,  as  some  beggar  might  buckle  to 
himself  royal  velvet  with  its  ermine  over  his  filthy  tatters. 
There  must  be  a  putting  off  in  order  to  and  accompanying 
the  putting  on.  Strip  yourselves  of  yourselves,  and  then 
you  *'  shall  not  be  found  naked,"  but  clothed  with  the 
garments  of  salvation,  as  the  bride  with  the  robe  which  is 
the  token  of  the  bridegroom's  love  and  the  pledge  of  her 
espousals  to  him. 

And  let  nobody  wonder  that  the  Apostle  here  com- 
mands us,  as  by  our  own  efforts,  to  put  on  and  make  ours 
what  is  in  many  other  places  of  Scripture  treated  as  God's 
gift.  These  earnest  exhortations  are  perfectly  consistent 
with  the  belief  that  all  comes  from  God.  Our  faithful  ad- 
herence to  our  Lord  and  Master,  our  honest  efforts  in 
His  strength  to  secure  more  and  more  of  His  likeness, 
determine  the  extent  to  which  we  shall  possess  that  like- 
ness. The  new  nature  is  God's  gift,  and  it  is  given  to  us 
according  to  His  own  fulness  indeed,  but  also  according 


I40  THE  NEW  MAN,  [SERM» 

to  the  measure  of  our  faith.  Blessfd  be  His  name  !  we 
have  nothing  to  do  but  to  accept  His  gift  The  garment 
with  which  He  clothes  our  nakedness  and  hides  our  filth 
is  woven  in  no  earthly  looms.  As  with  the  first  sinful 
pair,  so  with  all  their  children  since,  "the  Lord  God  made 
them "  the  covering  which  they  cannot  make  for  them- 
selves. But  we  have  to  accept  it,  and  we  have  by  daily 
toil,  all  our  lives  long,  to  gather  it  more  and  more  closely 
arotmd  us,  to  wrap  ourselves  more  and  more  completely 
in  its  ample  folds.  We  have  by  effort  and  longing,  by 
self-abnegation  and  aspiration,  by  prayer  and  work,  by 
communion  and  service,  to  increase  our  possession  of  that 
likeness  to  God  which  lives  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  firom  Him 
is  stamped  ever  more  and  more  deeply  on  the  heart 
For  the  strengthening  of  our  confidence  and  oiu*  gratitude, 
we  have  to  remember  with  lowly  trust  that  it  is  true  of  us, 
"If  any  man  be  in  Christ  he  is  a  new  creature."  For 
the  quickening  of  our  energy  and  faithful  efforts  we  have 
to  give  heed  to  the  command,  and  fulfil  it  in  ourselves — 
"  Be  ye  renewed  in  the  Spirit  of  your  minds,  and  put  on 
ihe  new  man." 

IV.  And,  finally,  the  text  contains  the  principle  that 
tJie  means  of  appropriating  this  new  nature  is  contact  with 
the  truth. 

If  you  will  look  at  the  margins  of  some  Bibles,  you 
will  see  that  our  translators  have  placed  there  a  rendering, 
which,  as  is  not  unfrequently  the  case,  is  decidedly  better 
than  that  adopted  by  them  in  the  text  Instead  of  "  true 
holiness,"  the  Hteral  rendering  is  "  holmess  of  truth  " — 
ind  the  apostle's   purpose  in  the  expression  is  not  to 


IX.  ]  THE  NE  W  MAN.  1 4  > 

particularize  the  quality,  but  the  origin  of  the  "  holiness." 
It  is  "  of  truth,"  that  is,  "  produced  by"  the  holiness 
which  flows  from  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  of  which  he 
has  been  speaking  a  moment  before. 

And  we  come,  therefore,  to  this  practical  conclusion, 
that  whilst  the  agent  of  renovation  is  the  Divine  Spirit, 
and  the  condition  of  renovation  is  our  cleaving  to  Christ, 
the  medium  of  renovation  and  the  weapon  which  the 
transforming  grace  employs  is  "  the  word  of  the  truth 
of  the  gospel,"  whereby  we  are  sanctified.  There  we 
get  the  law,  and  there  we  get  the  motive  and  the  impulse. 
There  we  get  the  encouragement  and  the  hope.  In  it, 
in  the  grand  simple  message — "  God  was  in  Christ, 
reconciling  the  world  unto  Himself,  not  imputing  their 
trespasses  unto  them,"  lie  the  germs  of  all  moral 
progress.  And  in  proportion  as  we  believe  that — not 
with  the  cold  belief  of  our  understandings,  but  with  the 
living  affiance  of  our  hearts  and  our  whole  spiritual 
being — in  proportion  as  we  believe  them,  in  that  propor- 
tion shall  we  grow  in  **  knowledge,"  shall  grow  in 
"  righteousness,"  in  the  "  image  of  Him  that  created  us." 
The  Gospel  is  the  great  means  of  this  change,  because 
it  is  the  great  means  by  which  He  who  works  the  change 
comes  near  to  our  understandings  and  our  hearts. 

So  let  us  learn  how  impossible  are  righteousness  and 
holiness,  morality  and  religion  in  men  imless  they  flow 
from  this  source.  It  is  the  truth  that  sanctifies.  It  is  the 
Spirit  who  wields  that  truth  that  sanctifies.  It  is  Christ 
who  sends  the  Spirit  who  sanctifies.  But,  brethren, 
beyond  the  lange  of  this  light  is  only  darkness,  and  that 


142  THE  NEiV  MAN,  [SERM. 

nature  which  is  not  cleansed  by  His  priestly  hand  laid 
upon  it  remains  leprous,  and  he  who  is  clothed  with  any 
other  garment  than  His  righteousness  will  find  "the 
covering  narrower  than  that  he  can  wrap  himself  in  it" 
And  let  us  learn,  on  the  other  hand,  the  incompleteness 
and  monstrosity  of  a  professed  belief  in  "  the  truth " 
which  does  not  produce  this  righteousness  and  holiness. 
It  may  be  real — God  forbid  that  we  should  step  into 
His  place  and  assume  His  office  of  discerning  the 
thoughts  of  the  heart,  and  the  genuineness  of  Christian 
professions  !  But,  at  any  rate,  it  is  no  exaggeration  nor 
presumption  to  say  that  a  professed  faith  which  is  not 
making  us  daily  better,  gentler,  simpler,  purer,  more 
truthful,  more  tender,  more  brave,  more  self-oblivious, 
more  loving,  more  strong — more  like  Christ — is  wofully 
deficient  either  in  reality  or  in  power — is,  if  genuine, 
ready  to  perish — if  lit  at  all,  smouldering  to  extinction. 
Christian  men  and  women  !  is  "  the  truth  "  moulding  you 
into  Christ's  likeness  ?  If  not,  see  to  it  whether  it  be  the 
truth  which  you  are  holding,  and  whether  you  are  holding 
the  truth  or  have  unconsciously  let  it  pass  from  a  grasp 
numbed  by  the  freezing  coldness  of  the  world. 

And  for  us  all,  let  us  see  that  we  lay  to  heart  the  large 
truths  of  this  text,  and  give  them  that  personal  bearing 
without  which  they  are  of  no  avail  /  need  renovation 
in  my  inmost  nature.  Nothing  can  renew  my  soul  but 
the  power  of  Christ,  who  is  my  life,  /  am  naked  and 
foul.  Nothing  can  cleanse  and  clothe  but  He.  The 
blessed  truth  which  reveals  Him  calls  for  my  individual 
faith.     And  if  /  put  my  confidence  in  that  Lord,  He  will 


tX.]  THE  NE^V  MAN.  1 43 

dwell  in  my  inmost  spirit,  and  so  sway  viy  affections  and 
mould  my  will  that  /  shall  be  transformed  into  His  per- 
fect likeness.  He  begins  with  each  of  us,  by  bringing  the 
best  robe  to  cast  over  the  rags  of  the  returning  prodigals. 
He  ends  not  with  any  who  trust  Him,  until  they  stand 
amid  the  hosts  of  the  heavens  who  follow  Him,  clothed 
with  fine  linen  clean  and  white,  which  is  the  righteousness 
of  His  Holy  Ones. 


144 


SERMON    X. 

THE  HIDING  PLACE. 


Isaiah  xxxii,  3. 


And  a  man  shall  be  as  an  hiding  place  from  the  wind,  and  a  covert 
from  the  tempest ;  as  rivers  of  water  in  a  dry  place,  as  the  shadow  of 
a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land. 

A  X  rE  may  well  say,  Of  whom  speaketh  the  prophet 
this?  Here  are  distinctly  attributed  to  one  of 
ourselves,  if  we  take  the  words  in  their  simplicity  and 
fulness,  functions  and  powers  which  universal  experience 
has  taught  us  not  to  look  for  in  humanity.  And  there 
have  been  a  great  many  attempts — as  it  seems  to  me, 
altogether  futile  and  baseless  ones — to  break  the  force  of 
these  words  as  a  distinct  prophecy  of  Jesus  Christ. 
Surely  the  language  is  far  too  wide  to  have  application  to 
any  real  or  ideal  Jewish  monarch,  except  one  whose  king- 
dom is  an  everlasting  kingdom !  Surely  the  experience 
of  a  hundred  centuries  might  teach  men  that  there  is  one 
man,  and  one  alone,  who  is  the  refuge  from  all  dangers, 
the  fruition  of  all  desires,  the  rest  and  refreshment  in  all 
trials  1 
And  I,  for  my  part,  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that 


THE  HIDING  PLACE.  145 

the  only  reference  of  these  words  which  gives  full  weight 
to  their  wealth  of  blessing,  is  to  regard  them  as  a  prophecy 
of  the  man — Christ  Jesus  ;  hiding  in  whom  we  are  safe, 
"coming"  to  whom  we  "never  thirst,"  guarded  and  blest  by 
whom  no  weariness  can  befall  us,  and  dwelling  in  whom 
this  weary  world  shall  be  full  of  refreshment  and  peace  ! 

I  do  not  need  to  point  out  the  exquisite  beauty  of  the 
imagery  or  the  pathos  and  peace  that  breathe  in  the 
majestic  rhythm  of  the  words.  There  is  something  more 
than  poetical  beauty  or  rhetorical  amplification  of  a  single 
thought  in  those  three  clauses.  The  ''hiding  place"  and 
''covert"  refer  to  one  class  of  wants;  the  "river  of  water 
in  a  dry  place"  to  yet  another ;  and  "  the  shadow  of  a 
great  rock  in  a  weary  land"  to  yet  a  third.  And,  though 
they  be  tinged  and  dyed  in  Eastern  imagery,  the  realities 
of  life  in  Western  lands,  and  in  all  ages,  give  them  a 
deeper  beauty  than  that  of  lovely  imagery,  and  are  the 
best  keys  to  understanding  their  meaning.  We  shall, 
perhaps,  best  grasp  the  whole  depth  of  that  meaning 
according  to  the  reference  which  I  venture  to  give  to  the 
text,  if  we  consider  the  sad  and  solemn  conception  of 
man's  Ufe  that  underlies  it;  the  enigmatical  and  obstinate 
hope  which  it  holds  out  in  the  teeth  of  all  experience — 
"  A  man  shall  be  a  refuge ;"  and  the  solution  of  the 
riddle  in  the  man  Christ  Jesus  ! 

I.  First,  there  xmderlies  this  prophecy  a  very  sad,  a  very 
true  conception  of  human  life. 

The  three  classes  of  promises  have  correlative  with 
them  three  phases  of  man's  condition,  three  diverse 
aspects  of  his  need  and  misery.     The  "covert"  and  the 


146  THE  HIDING  PLACE,  [SERM. 

"hiding  place"  imply  tempest  and  storm  and  danger; 
the  "river  of  water"  implies  drought  and  thirst;  "the 
shadow  of  a  great  rock "  implies  lassitude  and  languor, 
fatigue  and  weariness.  The  view  of  life  that  arises  from 
the  combination  of  all  three  bears  upon  its  front  the 
signature  of  truth  in  the  very  fact  that  it  is  a  sad  view. 

For,  I  suppose,  notwithstanding  all  that  we  may  say 
concerning  the  beauty  and  the  blessedness  scattered 
broadcast  round  about  us,  notwithstanding  that  we  be- 
lieve, and  hold  as  for  our  lives  the  "  happy  faith  that  all 
which  we  behold  is  full  of  blessing,"  it  needs  but  a  very 
short  experience  of  this  life,  and  but  a  superficial  ex- 
amination of  our  own  histories  and  our  own  hearts,  in 
order  to  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  world  is  full  of 
strange  and  terrible  sadness,  that  every  life  has  dark  tracts 
and  long  stretches  of  sombre  tint,  and  that  no  representa- 
tion is  true  to  fact  which  dips  its  pencil  only  in  light  and 
flings  no  shadows  on  the  canvas.  There  is  no  depth  in 
a  Chinese  picture,  because  there  is  no  shade.  It  is  the 
wrinkles  and  marks  of  tear  and  wear  that  make  the  ex- 
pression in  a  maris  portrait.  "  Life's  sternest  painter  is 
the  best"  The  gloomy  thoughts  which  are  charged 
against  Scripture  are  the  true  thoughts  about  man,  and 
the  world  as  man  has  made  it  Not,  indeed,  that  life 
needs  to  be  so,  but  that  by  reason  of  our  own  evil  and 
departure  from  God  there  have  come  in  as  a  disturbing 
element  the  retributive  consequences  of  our  own  godless- 
ness,  and  these  have  made  danger  where  else  were  safety, 
thirst  where  else  were  rivers  of  water,  and  weariness  and 
lassitude  where  else  were  strength  and  bounding  hopel 


X.]  THE  HIDING  PLACE.  147 

So  then,  look  for  a  moment  at  these  three  points  that 
come  out  of  my  text,  in  order  to  lay  the  foundation  for 
subsequent  considerations. 

We  live  a  life  defenceless  and  exposed  to  many  a  stonn 
and  tempest  I  need  but  remind  you  of  the  adverse  cir- 
cumstances— the  wild  winds  that  go  sweeping  across  the 
flat  level,  the  biting  blasts  that  come  down  from  the  snow- 
clad  mountains  of  destiny  that  lie  round  the  low  plain 
upon  which  we  live.  I  need  but  remind  you  of  the 
dangers  that  are  lodged  for  our  spiritual  life  in  the  tempta- 
tions to  evil  that  are  round  about  us.  I  need  but  remind 
you  of  that  creeping  and  clinging  consciousness  of  being 
exposed  to  a  Divinely  commissioned  retribution  and 
punishment  which  perverts  the  Name  that  ought  to  be 
the  basis  of  all  our  blessedness,  into  a  Name  imwelcome 
and  terrible  because  threatening  judgment  I  need  but 
remind  you  how  men's  sins  have  made  it  needful  that 
when  the  mighty  God,  even  the  Lord,  appears  before  them, 
*'  it  shall  be  very  tempestuous  round  about  him."  Men 
fear  and  ought  to  fear  "the  blast  of  the  breath  of  his  nos- 
trils," which  must  burn  up  all  that  is  eviL  And  I  need  but 
remind  you  of  that  last  wild  wind  of  Death  that  whirls  the 
sin-faded  leaves  into  dark  comers  where  they  lie  and  rot 

My  brother  I  You  have  not  lived  thus  long  without 
learning  how  defenceless  you  are  against  the  storm  of 
adverse  circumstances.  You  have  not  lived  thus  long 
without  learning  that  though,  blessed  be  God  I  there  do 
come  in  all  our  lives  long  periods  of  halcyon  rest,  when 
**  birds  of  calm  sit  brooding  on  the  charmed  wave,"  and 
the  heavens  above  are  clear  as  sapphire,  and  the  sea 


148  THE  HIDING  PLACE,  [SERM 

around  is  transparent  as  opal — yet  the  little  cloud,  no 
bigger  than  a  man's  hand,  may  rise  on  the  horizon,  and 
may  thicken  and  blacken  and  grow  greater  and  nearer  till 
all  the  sky  is  dark,  and  burst  in  lightning  and  rain  and 
fierceness  of  wind,  till  "through  the  torn  sail  the  wild 
tempest  is  streaming,"  and  the  white  crests  of  the  waves 
are  like  the  mane  of  Death's  pale  horse  leaping  upon  the 
broken  ship.  We  have  all  learnt  in  how  profound  a 
sense,  by  reason  of  outward  adverse  circumstances  and 
inward  temptations,  by  reason  of  the  fears  of  a  justice 
which  we  know  is  throned  at  the  centre  of  the  creation, 
by  reason  of  a  death  which  to  us  is  a  terror,  and  by 
reason  of  that  universal  fear  of  "after  death  the  judg- 
ment," storm  and  tempest  stoop  upon  our  paths.  God 
made  the  sunshine,  and  we  have  made  it  a  storm.  God 
made  life  blessed  and  full  of  safety  and  peace,  and  we 
have  wrenched  ourselves  from  Him  and  stand  defenceless 
amidst  its  dangers. 

Then,  there  is  another  aspect  and  conception  of  life 
which  underlies  these  words  of  my  text  The  image  of 
the  desert  was  before  the  prophet's  rapt  vision.  He  saw 
the  sand  whirled  into  mad  dancing  columns  before  the 
blast  which  swept  across  the  unsheltered  flat,  with  nothing, 
for  a  day's  march,  to  check  its  force.  But  the  wilderness 
is  not  only  shelterless,  it  is  waterless  too — a  place  in 
which  wild  and  ravening  thirst  finds  no  refreshing  draughts, 
and  the  tongue  cleaves  to  the  blackening  gums. 

"  Rivers  of  water  in  a  dry  place  \  'i  And  what  is  tlie 
prose  fact  of  that  ?  That  you  and  I  live  in  the  midst  of 
a  world  which  has  no  correspondence  with  nor  capacity 


jl]  the  hiding  place,  149 

of  satisfying  our  truest  and  deepest  selves — that  we  bear 
about  with  us  a  whole  set  of  longings  and  needs  and 
weaknesses  and  strengths  and  capacities,  all  of  which,  like 
the  climbing  tendrils  of  some  creeping  plant,  go  feeling 
and  putting  out  their  green  fingers  to  lay  hold  of  some 
prop  and  stay ! — that  man  is  so  made  that  for  his  rest  and 
blessedness  he  needs  an  external  object  round  which  his 
spirit  may  cling,  on  which  his  desires  may  fall  and  rest,  by 
which  his  heart  may  be  clasped,  which  shall  be  authority 
for  his  will,  peace  for  his  fears,  sprinkling  and  cleansing 
for  his  conscience,  light  for  his  understanding,  shall  be 
in  complete  correspondence  with  his  inward  nature,— the 
water  for  his  thirst,  and  the  bread  for  his  hunger. 

And  as  thus,  on  the  very  nature  which  each  of  us 
carries,  there  is  stamped  the  signature  of  dependence 
and  the  necessity  of  finding  an  external  object  on  which 
to  rest  it;  and  as,  further,  men  will  not  be  tutored  even  by 
their  own  miseries  or  by  the  voice  of  their  own  wants,  and 
ever  confound  their  wishes  with  their  wants  and  their 
whims  with  their  needs,  therefore  it  comes  to  pass  that 
the  appetite  which  was  only  meant  to  direct  us  to  God, 
and  to  be  as  a  wholesome  hunger  in  order  to  secure  our 
partaking  with  relish  and  delight  of  the  Divine  food  that 
is  provided  for  it,  becomes  unsatisfied,  a  torture,  and  un- 
slaJced,  a  ravening  madness ;  and  men's  needs  become 
men's  misery ;  and  men's  hunger  becomes  men's  famine  j 
and  men's  thirst  becomes  men's  death!  A  dry  land 
wherein  no  water  is. 

All  about  us  there  are  these  creatures  of  Godt  brig^ 
and  blessed  and  beaotifuly  fit  for  their  fimctiont  and 


ISO  THE  HIDING  PLACE,  [SERM. 

meant  to  minister  to  our  gladness.  They  are  meant  to 
be  held  in  subordination.  It  is  not  meant  that  we  should 
find  in  them  the  food  for  our  souls.  Wealth  and  honour 
and  wisdom  and  love  and  gratified  ambition  and  success- 
ful purpose,  and  whatsoever  other  good  things  a  man  may 
gather  about  him  and  achieve — he  may  have  them  all, 
and  yet  beyond  them  all  there  shall  be  a  great  aching, 
longing  vacuity  in  his  soul.  His  true  and  inmost  being 
will  be  groping  through  the  darkness  Hke  a  plant  growing 
in  a  cellar,  for  the  light  which  alone  can  tinge  its  pale  petals 
and  swell  its  shrivelling  blossoms  to  ripeness  and  fruit. 

A  dry  place,  as  well  as  a  dangerous  place.  Have  not 
you  found  it  so  ?  I  believe  every  soul  of  man  has,  if  he 
will  be  honest  with  himself,  and  there  is  not  one  among 
us  to-night  who  would  not,  if  they  were  to  look  into  tlie 
deepest  facts  and  real  governing  experience  of  their  lives, 
confess — I  thirst — "my  soul  thirsteth."  And,  O  brethren, 
why  not  go  on  with  the  quotation,  and  make  that  which 
is  else  a  pain,  a  condition  of  blessedness?  Why  not 
recognize  the  meaning  of  all  this  restless  disquiet,  and 
say  ''  my  soul  thirsteth  for  God,  for  the  living  God  ?  " 

And  then  there  is  the  other  idea  underlying  these 
words  also,  yet  another  phase  of  this  sad  life  of  ours— 
not  only  danger  and  dtought,  but  also  weariness  anc 
languor.  The  desert  stretches  before  us  again,  wher*. 
there  is  no  shelter  from  the  blast  and  no  trickling  stream 
amid  the  yellowing  sand;  where  the  fierce  ball  above 
beaLs  dow.i  cruelly  and  its  hot  rays  are  flung  up  cruelly  into 
our  faces,  and  the  glare  blinds  us,  and  the  stifling  heat 
wearies  us,  and  work  is  a  torture  and  motion  is  misery, 


X.]  THE  HIDING  PLACE.  151 

and  we  long  for  nothing  so  much  as  to  be  quiet  and  to 
hide  our  heads  in  some  shade. 

I  was  reading,  a  day  or  two  ago,  one  of  our  last  books 
of  travels  in  the  wilderness  of  the  Exodus,  in  which  the 
writer  told  how,  after  toiling  for  hours  under  a  scorching 
sun,  over  the  hot  white  marly  flat,  seeing  nothing  but  a 
beetle  or  two  on  the  way,  and  finding  no  shelter  any- 
where from  the  pitiless  beating  of  the  sunshine,  the  three 
travellers  came  at  last  to  a  little  Retem  bush  only  a  few 
feet  high,  and  flung  themselves  dowTi  and  tried  to  hide, 
at  least,  their  heads,  from  those  "  sunbeams  like  swords," 
even  beneath  its  ragged  shade.  And  my  text  tells  of  a 
great  rock,  with  blue  dimness  in  its  shadow,  with  haply  a 
fern  or  two  in  the  moist  places  of  its  crevices,  where  there 
is  rest  and  a  man  can  lie  down  and  be  cool,  while  all  out- 
side is  burning  sun,  and  burning  sand,  and  dancing  mirage. 

Oh !  the  weariness  felt  by  us  all,  of  plod,  plod,  plodding 
across  the  sand  !  That  fatal  monotony  into  which  every 
man's  life  stiffens,  as  far  as  outward  circumstances,  out- 
ward joys  and  pleasures  go  !  the  depressing  influence  of 
custom  which  takes  the  edge  off  all  gladness  and  adds 
a  burden  to  ever)'  duty  !  the  weariness  of  all  that  tugging 
up  the  hill,  of  all  that  collar-work  which  we  have  to  do  ! 
AVho  is  there  that  has  not  his  moods — and  that  by  no 
means  the  least  worthy  and  man-like  of  his  moods — 
wherein  he  feels — not,  perhaps,  all  is  vanity,  but  **  how 
infinitely  weary  all  is." 

And  so  every  race  of  man  that  ever  has  lived  has 
managed  out  of  two  miseries  to  make  a  kind  of  shadowy 
gladness  ;  and,   knowing  the  weariness  of  life  and  the 


152  THE  HIDING  PLACE.  [SERM. 

blackness  of  death,  has  somewhat  softened  the  latter  by 
throwing  upon  it  the  contrast  of  the  former,  and  has  said, 
"Well,  at  any  rate,  if  the  grave  be  narrow  and  dark,  and 
outside  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful  day  there  be 
that  ambiguous  night,  at  least  it  is  the  time  for  sleep; 
and,  if  we  cannot  be  sure  of  anything  more,  we  shall  rest 
then,  at  any  rate."  So  the  hope  of  "  long  disquiet  merged 
in  rest"  becomes  almost  bright,  and  man's  weariness 
finds  most  pathetic  expression  in  his  thinking  of  the  grave 
as  a  bed  where  he  can  stretch  himself  and  be  stilL  Life 
is  hard,  life  is  dry,  life  is  dangerous. 

II.  But  another  thought  suggested  by  these  words  is — 
The  Mysterious  Hope  which  shines  through  them,  that  one 
of  ourselves  shall  deliver  us  from  all  this  evil  in  life. 

"  A  man  shall  be  a  refuge,  rivers  of  water,  the  shadow 
of  a  great  rock." 

Such  an  expectation  seems  to  be  right  in  the  teeth  of 
all  experience,  and  far  too  high-pitched  ever  to  be  ful- 
filled. It  appears  to  demand  in  him  who  should  bring 
it  to  pass  powers  which  are  more  than  human,  and  which 
must  in  some  inexplicable  way  be  wide  as  the  range  of 
humanity  and  enduring  as  the  succession  of  the  ages. 

It  is  worth  while  to  realize  to  ourselves  these  two 
points  which  seem  to  make  such  words  as  these  of  our 
text  a  blank  impossibility.  Experience  contradicts  them, 
and  common  sense  demands  for  their  fufilment  an  appar- 
ently impossible  human  character. 

AH  experience  seems  to  teach — does  it  not  ? — that  no 
human  arm  or  heart  can  be  to  another  soul  what  these 
words  promise,  and  what  we  need     And  yet  the  men 


X.]  THE  HIDING  PLACE.  153 

who  have  been  disappointed  and  disenchanted  a  thousand 
times  do  still  look  among  their  fellows  for  what  their 
fellows,  too,  are  looking  for,  and  none  have  ever  found. 
Have  ive  found  what  we  seek  among  men  ?  Have  we 
ever  known  amongst  the  dearest  that  we  have  clung  to, 
one  arm  that  was  strong  enough  to  keep  us  in  all  danger  ? 
Has  there  ever  been  a  human  love  to  which  we  can  run 
with  the  security  that  there  is  a  strong  tower  where  no 
evil  can  touch  us  ?  There  have  been  many  delights  in 
all  our  lives  mediated  and  ministered  to  us  by  those  that 
we  loved.  They  have  taught  us,  and  helped  us,  and 
strengthened  us  in  a  thousand  ways.  We  have  received 
from  them  draughts  of  wisdom,  of  love,  of  joy,  of  guidance, 
of  impulse,  of  comfort,  which  have  been,  as  water  in  the 
desert  is,  more  precious  than  gold.  Our  fellow-travellers 
have  shared  tlieir  store  with  us,  "letting  down  their 
pitchers  upon  their  hand,"  and  giving  us  drink ;  but  has 
the  draught  ever  slaked  the  thirst?  They  but  carry  a 
pitcher,  and  a  pitcher  is  not  a  fountain.  Have  there  been 
any  in  all  the  round  of  those  that  we  have  loved  and 
trusted,  to  whom  we  have  trusted  absolutely,  without 
having  been  disappointed  ?  They,  like  us,  are  hemmed  in 
by  human  limitations.  They  each  bear  a  burdened 
and  thirsty  spirit,  itself  needing  such  supphes.  And  to 
the  truest,  happiest,  most  soul-sufficing  companionship 
there  comes  at  last  that  dread  hour  which  ends  all  sweet 
commerce  of  giving  and  receiving,  and  makes  the  rest  of 
life,  for  some  of  us,  one  monotonous  ashen-gray  wilderness, 
where  no  water  is.  These  things  make  it  impossible  for  us 
to  find  anywhere  amongst  men  our  refuge  and  our  fruitioa 


t54  THE  HIDING  PLACE.  [SERM. 

And  yet  how  strange,  how  pathetic,  is  the  fact  that  after 
ill  disappointments,  men  still  obstinately  continue  to  look 
among  their  fellows  for  guidance,  and  for  light,  for  con- 
solation, for  defence,  and  for  strength  1  After  a  thousand 
failures  they  still  hope.  Does  not  the  search  at  once 
confess  that  hitherto  they  have  not  found,  else  why  be 
seeking  still  ? — and  that  they  yet  believe  they  shall  find, 
else  why  not  cease  the  vain  quest  ?  And  surely  He  who 
made  us,  made  us  not  in  vain,  nor  cursed  us  with  im- 
aiortal  hopes  which  are  only  persistent  Hes.  Surely  there 
s  some  living  person  who  will  vindicate  these  unquench- 
able hopes  of  humanity,  and  receive  and  requite  our  love 
and  trust,  and  satisfy  our  longings,  and  explain  the  riddle 
of  our  lives.  If  there  be  not,  nor  ever  has  been,  nor 
ever  can  be  a  man  who  shall  satisfy  us  with  his  love,  and 
defend  us  with  his  power,  and  be  our  all  sufficient  satis- 
faction and  our  rest  in  weariness,  then  much  of  man's 
noblest  nature  is  a  mistake,  and  many  of  his  purest  and 
profoundest  hopes  are  an  illusion,  a  mockery,  and  a  snare, 
rhe  obstinate  hope  that,  within  the  limits  of  humanity,  we 
shall  find  what  we  need  is  a  mystery,  except  on  one  hypo- 
thesis, that  it,  too,  belongs  to  "  the  unconscious  prophe- 
cies "  that  God  has  lodged  m  all  men's  hearts. 

Nor  need  I  remind  you,  I  suppose,  how  such  functions 
as  those  of  which  my  text  speaks  not  only  seem  to  be 
contradicted  by  all  experience,  but  manifestly  and  obviously 
to  transcend  the  possibilities  of  human  nature.  A  man 
to  defend  me ;  and  he  himself — does  he  need  no  defence  ? 
A  man  to  supply  my  wants ;  and  is  his  spirit,  then,  other 
than  mine  that  it  can  become  the  all  sufficient  fulness  for 


X.]  THE  HIDING  PLACE,  1 55 

my  emptiness  ?  He  that  can  do  this  for  one  spirit  must 
be  greater  than  the  spirit  for  which  he  doeth  it  He  that 
can  do  it  for  the  whole  race  of  man,  through  all  ages,  in 
all  circumstances,  down  to  the  end  of  time,  in  every  lati- 
tude, under  every  condition  of  civilisation,  who  must  he 
be  who,  for  the  whole  world,  evermore  and  always  is 
their  defence,  their  gladness,  their  shelter,  and  their  rest  ? 
The  function  requires  a  divine  power,  and  the  application 
of  the  power  requires  a  human  hand.  It  is  not  enough 
that  I  should  be  pointed  to  a  far-off  heaven,  where  there 
dwells  an  infinite  loving  God — I  beheve  that  we  need 
more  than  that.  We  need  not  merely  "  God  is  my  refuge 
and  my  strength,"  but  "a  man  shall  be  a  hiding  place 
from  the  wind,  and  a  covert  from  the  tempest" 

III.  And  so  that  brings  me  to  the  last  point  to  be 
noticed,  namely  ; —  The  solution  of  the  mystery  in  the  person 
of  Jesus  Christ. 

That  which  seemed  impossible  is  real  The  fore- 
bodings of  experience  have  not  fathomed  the  powers  of 
Divine  Love.  There  is  a  man,  our  brother,  bone  of  our 
bone,  and  flesh  of  our  flesh,  who  can  be  to  single  souls 
the  adequate  object  of  their  perfect  trust,  the  abiding 
home  of  their  deepest  love,  the  unfailing  supply  for  their 
profoundest  wants.  There  is  one  man,  whom  it  is  wise 
and  blessed  to  look  to  as  the  exclusive  source  of  all  our 
peace,  the  absolute  Ruler  of  all  our  lives.  There  is  a  man 
in  whom  we  find  all  that  we  have  vainly  sought  in  men. 
There  is  a  man,  who  can  be  to  all  ages  and  to  the  whole 
race  their  refuge,  their  satisfaction,  their  rest  "  It  be- 
hoved him  to  be  made  in  all  points  like  unto  his  brethren," 


6  THE  HIDING  PLACE.  [SKRAL 


that  His  succour  might  be  ever  near,  and  His  sympathy 
sure.  The  man  Christ  Jesus  who,  being  man,  is  God  mani- 
fest in  the  flesh,  exercises  in  one  and  the  same  act  the 
offices  of  Divine  pity  and  human  coqipassion,  of  Divine 
and  human  guardianship,  of  Divine  and  human  love. 

**  And  so  the  Word  had  breath,  and  wrought 
With  human  hands  the  creed  of  creeds 
In  lovehness  of  perfect  deeds, 
More  strong  than  all  poetic  thought** 

The  dreams  of  weary  hearts  that  have  longed  for  an  im- 
possible perfection  are  all  below  the  reality.  The  fact  sur- 
passes all  expectation  It  is  more  than  all  prophecies,  it  is 
more  than  all  hopes,  it  is  more  than  all  praise.  It  is  God's 
unspeakable  gift  Well  might  an  angel  voice  proclaim  the 
mystery  of  love,  "Unto  you  is  born  a  Saviour,  which  is 
Christ  the  Lord."  The  ancient  promise  of  our  text  is  a 
history  now.    A  man  has  been  and  is  all  these  things  for  us. 

A  refuge  and  a  hiding  place  from  every  storm !  Ad- 
verse circumstances  sweep  upon  us,  and  His  mighty  hand 
is  put  down  there  as  a  buckler,  behind  which  we  may 
hide  and  be  safe.  Temptations  to  evil  storm  upon  us, 
and  enclosed  within  Him  they  never  touch  us.  The 
fears  of  our  own  hearts  swirl  like  a  river  in  flood  against 
the  walls  of  our  fortress  home,  and  we  can  laugh  at  them, 
for  it  is  founded  upon  a  rock !  The  day  of  judgment 
rises  before  us  solemn  and  certain,  and  we  can  await  it 
without  fear,  and  approach  it  with  calm  joy.  I  call  upon 
no  mountains  and  hills  to  cover  me. 

"  Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me. 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  Thee  ?  " 


X.]  THE  HIDING  PLACE.  157 

"  Rivers  of  water  in  a  dry  place."  Hungr}^  and  thirsty, 
my  soul  faints  within  me.  I  longed  for  light  and  behold 
darkness.  I  longed  for  help  and  there  was  none  that 
could  come  close  to  my  spirit  to  succour  and  to  give  me 
drink  in  the  desert.  My  conscience  cried  in  all  its 
wounds  for  cleansing  and  staunching,  and  no  Comforter 
nor  any  balm  was  there.  My  heart,  weary  of  limited 
loves  and  mortal  affections,  howsoever  sweet  and 
precious,  yearned  and  bled  for  one  to  rest  upon,  all- 
sufficient  and  eternal.  I  thirsted  with  a  thirst  that  was 
more  than  desire,  that  was  pain,  and  was  coming  to  be 
death,  and  I  heard  a  voice  which  said,  "  If  any  man 
thirst,  let  him  come  unto  me  and  drink.*' 

"  The  shadvow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land !"  And 
my  heart  was  weary  by  reason  of  the  greatness  of  the 
way,  and  duties  and  tasks  seemed  toils  and  burdens,  and 
I  was  ready  to  say,  "  A\Tierefore  hast  thou  made  me  and 
all  men  in  vain  ?  Surely  all  is  vanity  and  vexation  of 
spirit."  And  I  heard  One  that  laid  His  hand  upon  me 
and  said,  "  Come  unto  me,  thou  that  labourest  and  art 
heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  thee  rest"  I  come  to  Thee, 
O  Christ  Faint  and  perishing,  defenceless  and  needy, 
with  many  a  sin  and  many  a  fear,  to  Thee  I  turn,  for 
Thou  hast  died  for  me,  and  for  me  Thou  dost  live.  Be 
Thou  my  shelter  and  strong  tower.  Give  me  to  drink  of 
living  water.  Let  me  rest  in  Thee  while  in  this  weary 
land,  and  let  Thy  sweet  love,  my  Brother  and  my  Lord ! 
be  mine  all  on  earth  and  the  heaven  of  my  heaven  ! 


158 


SERMON   XL 

THE   HAPPY   HOPE. 


Titus  ii,  13. 

Looking  for  that  blessed  hope,  and  the  gloriottt  appearing  of  the 
great  God  and  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 

'T^HERE  are  two  appearances  spoken  of  in  this  context 
— the  appearance  of  "  the  grace  of  God  that  bringeth 
salvation ; "  and  parallel  with  that,  though  at  the  same  time 
contrasted  with  it,  as  being  in  very  important  senses  one 
in  nature  and  principle,  though  diverse  in  purpose  and 
diverse  in  manner,  is  what  the  Apostle  here  calls  "  the 
glorious  appearing  of  the  great  God." 

The  antithesis  of  contrast  and  of  parallel  is  still  more 
striking  in  the  original  than  in  our  version,  where  our 
translators  have  adopted  a  method  of  rendering  of  which 
they  are  very  fond,  and  which  very  often  obscures  the 
full  meaning  of  the  text  Paul  wrote,  "  Looking  for  that 
blessed  (or  *  happy')  hope,  even  thi  appearing  of  the  glory 
of  the  great  God  and  our  Saviour,"  where  you  see  he 
contrasts,  even  more  sharply  than  our  Bible  makes  him 
do^  the  past  appearance  of  the  grace,  and  the  future 
appearance  of  the  gioxy. 


THE  HAPPY  HOPE.  159 

Then,  further,  "  this  appearance  of  the  glory,"  howeve? 
bright  with  the  terrible  beauty  and  flashing  lustre  oi 
Divine  majesty  it  may  be,  seems  to  the  Apostle  to  be 
infinitely  desirable,  and  becomes  to  him  a  happy  hope. 
The  reality,  when  it  comes,  will  be  pure  joy.  The 
irradiation  of  its  approach  shines  from  afar  on  his  bright 
t  ning  face,  and  lightens  his  heart  with  a  hope  which  is 
a  prophetic  joy.  And  the  attitude  of  the  Christian  soul 
towards  it  is  to  be  that  of  glad  expecUtion,  watching  the 
dawning  east  and  ready  to  salute  the  sun. 

And  yet  further,  this  attitude  of  happy  expectation  of 
the  glory  is  one  chief  object  to  be  attained  by  the  grace 
that  has  appeared.  It  came  "teaching,"  or  rather  (as 
tlie  word  more  accurately  means)  "  disciplining,  that  we 
should  Hve  looking  for  that  happy  hope." 

So  then,  we  have  here  for  our  consideration  three 
points  embodied  in  these  words — The  grace  of  God  has 
appeared,  the  glory  of  God  is  to  appear ;  the  appearance 
of  the  glor}'  is  a  blessed  hope ;  the  disciplming  of  the 
grace  prepares  us  for  the  expectation  of  the  gloiy. 

I.  First,  then,  take  that  thought — The  appearanu  of 
the  grace  leads  to  the  appearance  of  the  glory. 

The  identity  of  the  form  of  expression  in  the  two 
clauses  is  intended  to  suggest  the  likeness  of  and  the 
connection  between  the  two  appearances.  In  both  there 
is  a  visible  manifestation  of  God,  and  the  latter  rests 
upon  the  former,  and  completes  and  crowns  it 

But  the  difference  between  the  two  is  as  strongly  marked 
as  the  analogy ;  and  it  is  not  difficult  to  grasp  distinctly 
the  difference  which  the  Apostle  intends.    While  both 


i6o  THE  HAPPY  HOPE,  [SERM. 

are  manifestations  of  the  Divine  character  in  exercise, 
the  specific  phase  (so  to  speak)  of  that  character  which 
a])pears  is  in  one  case  "  grace,"  and  in  the  other  "  glory." 
rf  one  might  venture  on  any  illustration  in  regard  to  such 
a  subject,  it  is  as  when  the  pure  white  light  is  sent 
through  glass  of  different  colours,  and  at  one  moment 
beams  mild  through  refreshing  green,  and  at  the  next 
flames  in  fiery  red  that  warns  of  danger. 

The  two  words  which  are  pitted  against  each  other 
here  have  each  a  very  wide  range  of  meaning.  But,  as 
employed  in  this  place,  their  antithetical  force  is  clear 
enough.  "Grace"  is  active  love  exercised  towards 
inferiors,  and  towards  those  that  deserve  something  else. 
So  the  grace  of  God  is  the  active  energy  of  His  love, 
which  stoops  fi-om  the  throne  to  move  among  men,  and 
departing  from  the  strict  ground  of  justice  and  retribution, 
deals  with  us  not  according  to  our  sins,  nor  rewards  us 
according  to  our  iniquities  ! 

And  then  the  contrasted  word  "  glory "  has  not  only 
a  very  wide  meaning,  but  also  a  definite  and  specific 
force,  which  the  very  antithesis  suggests.  The  "  glory  of 
God,"  I  believe,  in  one  ver}'  important  sense,  is  His 
"  grace."  The  highest  glory  of  God  is  the  exhibition  of 
forgiving  and  long-suffering  love.  Nothing  can  be 
grander  !  Nothing  can  be  more  majestic  !  Nothing,  in 
the  very  profoundest  sense  of  the  word,  can  be  more 
truly  Divine — more  lustrous  with  all  the  beams  of  manifest 
Deity,  than  the  gentle  raying  forth  of  His  mercy  and  His 
goodness  I 

But  then,  while  that  is  the  profoundest  thought  of  the 


XI.]  THE  HAPPY  HOPE.  l6l 

glory  of  God,  there  is  another  truth  to  be  taken  in  con- 
junction with  it.  The  phrase  has,  in  Scripture,  a  well 
marked  and  distinct  sense,  which  may  be  illustrated  from 
the  Old  Testament,  where  it  generally  means  not  so 
much  the  total  impression  of  majesty  and  power  made 
upon  men  by  the  whole  revealed  Divine  character,  but 
rather  the  visible  light  which  shone  between  the  Cherubim 
and  proclaimed  the  present  God.  Connected  with  this 
more  limited  sense  is  the  wider  one  of  that  which  the 
material  light  above  the  mercy  seat  symbolized — and 
which  we  have  no  better  words  to  describe  than  to  call 
it  the  Ineffable  and  Inaccessible  Brightness  of  that  awful 
Name. 

The  contrast  between  the  two  will  be  suggested  by  a 
passage  to  which  I  may  refer.  The  ancient  lawgiver 
said,  "  I  beseech  thee  show  me  thy  glory"  The 
answer  was,  "  I  will  make  all  my  goodness  pass  before 
thee."  The  eye  of  man  is  incapable  of  apprehending  the 
uncreated  divine  lustrousuess  and  splendour  of  light,  but 
capable  of  receiving  some  dim  and  partial  apprehensions 
of  the  goodness,  not  indeed  in  its  fulness,  but  in  its 
consequences.  And  that  goodness,  though  it  be  the 
brightest  of  "  the  glories  that  compose  his  name,"  is  not 
the  only  possible,  nor  the  only  actual  manifestation  of  the 
glory  of  God.  The  prayer  was  unfulfilled  when  offered ; 
for  to  answer  it,  as  is  possible  for  earth,  would  have  been 
to  antedate  the  slow  evolution  of  the  counsels  of  God. 
But  answered  it  will  be,  and  that  on  this  globe.  "  Every 
eye  shall  see  him." 

The  grace  has  appeared,  when  Divine  Love  is  incarnate 

3 


1 62  THE  HAPPY  HOPE,  [SERM.  ' 

among  us.  The  long-suffering  gentleness  we  have  seen. 
And  in  it  we  have  seen,  in  a  ver}'  real  sense,  the  glory, 
for  "we  beheld  his  glory — full  of  grace''  But  beyond 
that  lies  ready  to  be  revealed  in  the  last  time  the  glory, 
the  lustrous  light,  the  majestic  splendour,  the  flaming  fire 
of  manifest  Divinity. 

Again,  the  two  verses  thus  bracketed  together,  and 
brought  into  sharp  contrast,  also  suggest  how  like,  as  well 
as  how  unlike,  these  manifestations  are  to  be. 

In  both  cases  there  is  an  appearance,  in  the  strictest 
sense  of  the  word,  that  is  to  say,  a  thing  visible  to  men's 
senses.  Can  we  see  the  grace  of  God  ?  We  can  see  the 
love  in  exercise,  cannot  we  ?  How  ?  "  He  that  hath 
seen  me  hath  seen  the  Father ;  and  how  sayest  thou  then, 
Shew  us  the  Father?"  The  appearance  of  Christ  was  the 
making  visible,  in  human  fonn,  of  the  love  of  God. 

My  brother,  the  appearance  of  the  glor)'  will  be  the 
same, — the  making  visible  in  human  form  of  the  light  of 
throned  and  sovereign  Deity.  The  one  was  incarnation ; 
the  other  will  be  incarnation.  The  one  was  patent  to 
men's  senses, — so  will  the  other  be.  The  grace  has 
appeared.  The  glory  is  to  appear.  "  \Vliy  stand  ye 
gazing  up  into  heaven  ?  this  same  Jesus  shall  so  come  in 
like  manner  as  ye  have  seen  him  go."  An  historical  fact, 
a  bodily  visibility,  a  manifestation  of  the  Divine  nature 
and  character  in  human  form  upon  earth,  and  living  and 
moving  amongst  men  !  As  "  Christ  was  once  offered  to 
bear  the  sins  of  many,"  so  "unto  them  that  look  for  him 
shall  he  appear  the  second  time  without  sin  unto  sal  Na- 
tion."    The  two  are  strictly  parallel.     As  the  grace  was 


XI.]  THE  HAPPY  IJOPE.  163 

visible  in  action  by  a  man  among  men,  so  the  glory  will 
be.  What  we  look  for  is  an  actual  bodily  manifestation 
in  a  human  form,  on  the  solid  earth,  of  the  glory  of 
God! 

And  then  I  would  notice  how  emphatically  this  idea  of 
the  glory  being  all  sphered  and  embodied  in  the  living 
person  of  Jesus  Christ  proclaims  His  Divine  nature.  It  is 
"the  appearance  of  the  glory" — then  mark  the  next 
words — "  of  the  great  God  and  our  Saviour." 

I  am  not  going  to  enter  upon  the  question  of  the  inter- 
pretation of  these  words,  which,  by  many  very  competent 
authorities,  have  been  taken  as  all  referring  to  Jesus 
Christ,  and  as  being  a  singular  instance  in  Scripture  of 
the  attribution  to  Him  directly,  and  without  any  explan- 
ation or  modification,  of  the  name  "  the  great  God  ! " 
I  do  not  think  that  either  grammar  or  dogma  require  that 
interpretation  here.  But  I  think  that,  if  we  take  the 
words  to  refer  distinctly  to  the  Father  and  to  the  Son,  the 
inference  as  to  Christ's  true  and  proper  divinity  which 
comes  from  them,  so  understood,  is  no  less  strong  than 
the  other  interpretation  would  make  it.  For,  in  that 
case,  the  same  one  and  indissoluble  glory  is  ascribed  to 
God  the  Father  and  to  Christ  our  Lord,  and  the  same 
act  is  the  appearance  of  both.  The  Human  possesses 
the  Divine  glory  in  such  reality  and  fulness  as  it  would  be 
insanity  if  it  were  not  blasphemy,  and  blasphemy  if  it  were 
not  absurdity,  to  predicate  of  any  simple  man.  The 
words  coincide  with  His  own  saying,  "  The  Son  of  Man 
shall  come  in  his  glory  and  of  the  Father^'  and  point  us 
necessarily  and  inevitably  to  the  wonderful  thought  that 


f64  THE  HAPPY  HOPE.  [SERM, 

the  glory  of  God  is  capable  of  being  fully  imparted  to, 
possessed  by,  and  revealed  through  Jesus  Christ;  that 
the  glory  of  God  is  Christ's  glory,  and  the  glory  of  Christ 
is  God's.  In  deep,  mysterious,  real,  eternal  union  the 
Father  and  the  Son,  the  light  and  the  ray,  the  fountain 
and  the  source,  pour  themselves  out  in  loving-kindness 
on  the  world,  and  shall  flash  themselves  in  splendour  at 
the  last,  when  the  Son  of  Man  "  shall  be  manifested  in 
his  own  glory  and  of  the  Father  ! " 

And,  then,  I  must  touch  very  briefly  another  remarkable 
and  plain  contrast  indicated  in  our  text  between  these 
two  "  appearings."  They  are  not  only  unlike  in  the  sub- 
ject (so  to  speak)  or  substance  of  the  manifestation,  but 
also  in  the  purpose.  The  grace  comes,  patient,  gentle, 
sedulous,  labouring  for  our  training  and  discipline.  The 
glory  comes — there  is  no  word  of  training  there  !  What 
does  the  glory  come  for  ?  The  one  rises  upon  a  benighted 
world — lambent  and  lustrous  and  gentle,  like  the  slow, 
silent,  climbing  of  the  silvery  moon  through  the  darkling 
sky.  But  the  other  blazes  out  with  a  leap  upon  a  stormy 
heaven — "as  the  lightning  cometh  out  of  the  east,  and 
shineth  even  imto  the  west,"  wTiting  its  fierce  message 
across  all  the  black  page  of  the  sky  in  one  instant,  "  so 
shall  also  the  coming  of  the  Son  of  Man  be."  Like  some 
patient  mother,  the  "  grace  of  God  "  has  moved  amongst 
men,  with  entreaty,  with  loving  rebuke,  with  loving 
chastisement  She  has  been  counsellor  and  comforter. 
She  has  disciplined  and  fostered  wath  more  than  maternal 
wisdom  and  love.  "  Her  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness, 
and  all  her  paths  are  peace,"    But  the  glory  appears  for 


XI.]  THE  HAPPY  HOPE.  165 

another  purpose  and  in  another  guise — "  Who  is  this  that 
Cometh  with  dyed  garments  ?  I  that  speak  in  righteous- 
ness, mighty  to  save.  Wherefore  art  thou  red  in  thine 
apparel?  I  have  trodden  the  winepress  alone — for  the 
day  of  vengeance  is  in  mine  heart,  and  the  year  of  my 
redeemed  is  come." 

II.  But  we  have  now  to  look  at  the  second  thought 
which  is  involved  in  these  words,  and  that  is,  The  appear- 
ing of  the  glory  is  a  blessed  hope. 

The  hope  is  blessed ;  or,  as  we  have  already  remarked, 
the  word  "happy"  may,  perhaps,  be  substituted  with 
advantage.  Because  it  will  be  full  of  blessedness  when 
it  is  a  reality,  therefore  it  is  full  of  joy  while  it  is  but 
a  hope. 

The  characteristics  of  that  future  manifestation  of 
glory  are  not  such  that  its  coming  is  wholly  and 
universally  a  joy.  There  is  something  terrible  in  the 
beauty,  something  menacing  in  the  brightness.  But  it  is 
worth  noticing  that,  notwithstanding  all  that  gathers 
about  it  of  terror,  all  that  gathers  about  it  of  awful 
splendour,  all  that  is  solemn  and  heartshaking  in  the 
thought  of  judgment  and  retribution  for  the  past,  the 
irreversible  and  irrevocable  past,  yet  to  Paul  it  was  the 
very  crown  of  all  his  expectations  of,  and  the  very 
shining  summit  of  all  his  desires  for,  the  future — that 
Christ  should  appear. 

The  ancient  church  thought  a  great  deal  more  about 
the  coming  of  Jesus  Christ  than  about  death— thought 
a  great  deal  more  about  His  coming  than  about 
"  Heaven."    To  them  the  future  was  not  so  much  a 


1 66  THE  HAPPY  HOPE.  [SERM. 

time  of  rest  for  themselves  as  the  manifestation  of  their 
Lord.  To  them  the  way  of  passing  out  of  life  w^.j 
not  so  much  seeing  corruption  as  being  caught  up 
together  in  the  air. 

And  how  far  the  darkness,  which  our  Lord  declared 
to  be  the  Divine  counsel  in  regard  to  that  future  coming, 
enwrapped  even  those  who,  upon  all  other  points,  re- 
ceived the  Divine  inspiration  which  made  and  makes 
them  for  evermore  the  infallible  teachers  and  authorities 
for  the  Christian  Church,  is  a  moot  question.  If  it  were 
certain  that  the  Apostle  expected  Christ's  coming  during 
His  own  lifetime,  I  do  not  know  that  we  need  be  troubled 
at  that  as  if  it  shook  his  authority,  seeing  that  almost  the 
last  words  which  Christ  spoke  to  His  Apostles  were  a 
distinct  declaration  that  He  had  not  to  reveal  to  them, 
and  they  were  not  to  know  "  the  times  and  the  seasons 
which  the  Father  has  put  in  his  own  power,"  and  seeing 
that  the  office  of  that  Holy  Spirit,  as  whose  organs  Paul 
and  the  other  ^vriters  of  the  New  Testament  are  our 
authoritative  teachers,  is  expressly  declared  to  be  the 
bringing  all  things  to  their  remembrance,  whatsoever 
Christ  had  revealed.  If,  then.  He  expressly  excepts 
from  the  compass  of  His  revelation  this  point,  it  can  be 
no  derogation  from  the  completeness  of  an  inspired 
writer's  authority,  if  he  knows  it  not. 

And  if  one  takes  into  account  the  whole  of  Paul's 
words  on  the  subject,  they  seem  to  express  rather  the 
same  double  anticipation,  which  we,  too,  have  to  cherish, 
desiring  and  looking,  on  the  one  hand,  for  the  Saviour 
from  heaven  ;  desiring  on  the  other  hand,  to  depart  and 


XI.]  THE  HAPPY  HOPE,  167 

be  with  Christ,  which  is  far  better.  The  numerous 
places  in  which  Paul  speaks  of  his  own  decease,  some- 
times as  longed  for,  sometimes  as  certain,  and,  latterly,  as 
near,  are  inconsistent  with  the  theory  that  he  looked  for 
Christ's  coming  as  certain  in  his  own  lifetime.  So,  too, 
are  other  anticipations  which  he  expresses  as  to  the 
future  course  of  the  Church,  and  progress  of  the  Gospel 
in  the  world.  He,  like  us,  would  appear  to  have  had  be- 
fore his  expectations  the  alternative.  He  knew  not  when 
the  glory  might  burst  upon  the  world,  therefore  he  was 
ever  standing  as  one  that  waits  for  his  Lord.  He  knew 
not  when  he  might  have  to  die,  therefore  he  laboured 
that,  "  whether  present  or  absent,  he  might  be  pleasing  to 
him." 

But  that  is  not  the  point  upon  which  I  want  to  say  a 
word  Dear  brethren,  the  hope  is  a  happy  one.  If  we 
know  "  the  grace,"  we  shall  not  be  afraid  of  "  the  glory. " 
If  the  grace  has  disciplined  in  any  measure,  we  may  be 
sure  that  we  shall  partake  in  its  perfection.  They  that 
have  seen  the  face  of  Christ  looking  down,  as  it  were, 
upon  them  from  the  midst  of  the  great  darkness  of  tht 
cross,  and  beneath  the  crown  of  thorns,  need  not  be 
afraid  to  see  the  same  face  looking  down  upon  them 
from  amidst  all  the  blaze  of  the  light,  and  from  beneath 
the  many  crowns  of  the  kingdoms  of  the  world,  and 
the  royalties  of  the  heavens.  Whosoever  hath  learnt 
to  love  and  believe  in  the  manifestation  of  the  grace,  he, 
and  he  only,  can  believe  and  hope  for  the  manifestation 
of  the  glory. 

And,  Christian  men  and  women,  whilst  thus  the  one 


1 68  THE  HAPPY  HOPE.  [SERM. 

ground  upon  which  that  assurance,  "  The  Lord  cometh," 
can  be  anything  to  us  except  a  dread,  if  it  is  a  belief  at 
all,  is  the  simple  reliance  upon  his  past  work, — ^let  me 
urge  the  further  consideration  upon  you  and  myself, 
how  shamefully  all  of  us  neglect  and  overlook  that 
blessed  expectation  !  We  live  by  hope.  God,  indeed, 
is  above  all  hope.  To  that  infinite  eye,  before  which  all 
things  that  were,  and  are,  and  are  to  come,  lie  open  and" 
manifest,  or,  rather,  are  insphered  in  His  own  person  and 
self;  to  Him  who  is  the  living  past,  the  abiding  present, 
the  present  future,  there  is  no  expectation.  The  animal 
creation  is  below  hope.  But  for  us  that  live  on  the 
central  level — half-way  between  a  beast  and  God,  if  I 
may  so  say — for  us  our  lives  are  tossed  about  between 
memory  and  expectation. 

We  all  of  us  possess,  and  most  of  us  prostitute,  that 
wonderful  gift — of  shaping  out  some  conception  of  the 
ftiture.  And  what  do  we  do  with  it  ?  It  might  knit  us 
to  God,  bear  us  up  amid  the  glories  of  the  abysses  of 
the  skies.  We  use  it  for  making  to  ourselves  pictures 
of  fools*  paradises  of  present  pleasures,  or  of  successful 
earthly  J03rs.  The  folly  of  men  is  not  that  they  live  by 
hope,  but  that  they  set  their  hopes  on  such  things. 
**  They  build  too  low 
Who  build  beneath  the  stars  !" 

As  for  every  other  part  of  human  nature,  so  for  this 
strange  faculty  of  our  being  the  Gospel  points  to  its  true 
object,  and  the  Gospel  gives  its  only  consecration.  Dear 
brethren,  is  it  true  of  us  that  into  our  hearts  there  steals 
subtle,  impalpable,  but  quickening  as  the  land  breeze 


XI.]  THE  HAPPY  HOPE,  169 

laden  with  the  fragrance  of  flowers  to  the  sailor  tossing 
on  the  barren  sea,  a  hidden  but  yet  mighty  hope  of  an 
inheritance  with  Him, — when  He  shall  appear?  With 
eye  lifted  above  and  fixed  upon  the  heavens  do  I  look 
beyond  the  clouds  into  the  stars  ?  Alas  !  alas  !  the 
world  drives  that  hope  out  of  our  hearts.  It  is  with  us 
as  with  the  people  in  some  rude  country  fair  and  scene 
of  riot,  where  the  booths,  and  the  shows,  and  the  drink 
ing-places  are  pitched  upon  the  edge  of  the  common,  and 
one  step  from  the  braying  of  the  trumpets  brings  you  into 
the  solemn  stillness  of  the  night,  and  high  above  the 
stinking  flare  of  the  oil  lamps  there  is  the  pure  light  of 
the  stars  in  the  sky,  and  not  one  amongst  the  many 
clowns  that  are  stumbling  about  in  the  midst  of  sensual 
dissipation  ever  looks  up  to  see  that  calm  home  that  is 
arched  above  them ! 

We  live  for  the  present,  do  not  we?  And  there,  if 
only  we  would  lift  our  eyes,  there,  even  now,  is  the  sign 
of  the  Son  of  Man  in  the  heavens.  My  friend,  it  is  as 
much  an  element  of  a  Christian's  character,  and  a  part  of 
his  plain  imperative  duty,  to  look  for  His  appearing,  as  it 
is  to  live  "  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly  in  this  present 
world!" 

HI.  Well  then,  finally,  one  word  about  the  last  con- 
sideration here,  viz..  The  grace  disciplines  us  to  hope  Jor 
the  glory. 

The  very  idea  of  discipline  involves  the  notion  that  it 
is  a  preparatory  stage,  a  transient  process  for  a  permanent 
result.  It  carries  with  it  the  idea  of  immaturity,  of 
apprenticeship,   so  to  ssieak.     If  it   is   discipline,  it  is 


I70  THE  HAPFY  HOPE.  [SERM. 

discipline  for  some  condition  which  is  not  yet  reached. 
And  so,  if  the  grace  of  God  comes  "  discipUning,"  then 
there  must  be  something  beyond  the  epoch  and  era 
within  which  the  discipline  is  confined. 

And  that  just  runs  out  into  two  considerations,  upon 
which  I  have  not  time  to  dwell.  Take  the  characteristics 
of  the  grace — clearly  enough,  it  is  preparing  men  for 
something  beyond  itself.  Yield  to  the  discipline  and  the 
hope  will  grow. 

Take  the  characteristics  of  the  grace.  Here  is  a  great 
system,  based  upon  a  stupendous  and  inconceivable  act 
of  Divine  sacrifice,  involving  a  mysterious  identification  of 
the  whole  race  of  sinful  men  with  the  Saviour,  embodying 
the  most  wonderful  love  of  God,  and  being  the  propitia- 
tion for  the  sins  of  the  whole  world.  Here  is  a  life 
perfectly  innocent,  perfectly  stainless,  brought  to  the  ex- 
tremity of  evil,  and  having  never  swerved  one  inch  from 
the  Divine  commandments,  yet  dying  at  last  under  a 
consciousness  of  separation  and  desertion  from  God  1 
Here  is  a  cross,  a  resurrection,  an  ascension,  an  omnipo- 
tent Spirit,  an  all-guiding  Word,  a  whole  series  of  powers 
and  agencies  brought  to  bear !  Does  any  man  believe 
that  such  a  wealth  of  Divine  energy  and  resource  would 
be  put  forth  and  employed  for  purposes  that  break  short 
off  when  a  man  is  put  into  his  coflin,  and  that  have 
nothing  beyond  this  world  for  their  field  ? 

Here  is  a  perfect  instrument  for  making  men  perfect, 
and  what  does  it  do  ?  It  makes  men  so  good  and  leaves 
them  so  bad  that  unless  they  are  to  be  made  still  better 
and  perfected,  God's  work  on  the  soul  is  at  once  an  un- 


XI.]  THE  HAPPY  HOPE.  171 

paralleled  success  and  a  confounding  failure — a  puzzle, 
in  that  having  done  so  much  it  does  not  do  more ;  in 
that  having  done  so  little  it  has  done  so  much.  The 
achievements  of  Christianity  upon  single  souls,  and  its 
failures  upon  those  for  whom  it  has  done  most,  when 
measured  against,  and  compared  with,  its  manifest  adapta- 
tion to  a  loftier  issue  than  it  has  ever  reached  here  on 
earth,  all  coincide  to  say, — the  grace — because  its  pur- 
pose is  discipline,  and  because  its  purpose  is  but  partiall}' 
achieved  here  on  earth — demands  a  glory,  when  they  whose 
darkness  has  been  partially  made  "light  in  the  Lord,"  by 
the  discipline  of  grace,  shall  "  blaze  forth  as  the  sun  "  in 
the  Heavenly  Father's  Kingdom  of  Glory. 

Yield  to  the  discipli?ie^  and  the  hope  will  he  strengthetud. 
You  will  never  entertain  in  any  vigour  and  operative 
power  upon  your  lives  the  expectation  of  that  coming  of 
the  glory  unless  you  live  soberly,  righteously,  and  godly 
in  this  present  world. 

That  discipline  submitted  to  is,  if  I  may  so  say,  like 
that  great  apparatus  which  you  find  by  the  side  of  an 
astronomer's  biggest  telescope,  to  wheel  it  upon  its  centre 
and  to  point  its  tube  to  the  star  on  which  he  would  look. 
So  our  anticipation  and  desire,  the  faculty  of  expectation 
which  we  have,  is  wont  to  be  directed  along  the  low  level 
of  earth,  and  it  needs  the  pinions  and  levers  of  that 
gracious  discipline,  making  us  sober,  righteous,  godly,  in 
order  to  heave  it  upwards,  full-front  against  the  sky,  that 
the  stars  may  shine  into  it 

The  speculum,  the  object-glass,  must  be  polished  and 
cut  by  many  a  stroke  and  much  friction  ere  it  will  reflec; 


172  THE  HAPFY  HOPE. 

"  the  image  of  the  heavenly " ;  so  grace  disciplines  us, 
patiently,  slowly,  by  repeated  strokes,  by  much  rubbing, 
by  much  pain — disciplines  us  to  live  in  self-restraint,  in 
righteousness  and  godliness,  and  then  the  cleared  eye 
beholds  the  heavens,  and  the  purged  heart  grows  towards 
"  the  coming  "  as  its  hope  and  its  life. 

Dear  brethren,  let  us  not  fling  away  the  treasures  of 
our  hearts'  desires  upon  trifles  and  earth.  Let  us  not 
"set  our  hopes  on  that  which  is  not,"  nor  paint  that  misty 
wall  that  rings  round  our  present  with  evanescent  colours 
like  the  landscapes  of  a  dream.  We  may  have  a  hope 
which  is  a  certainty,  as  sure  as  a  history,  as  vivid  as  a 
present  fact.  Let  us  love  and  trust  to  Him  who  has 
been  manifested  to  save  us  from  our  sins,  and  in  whom 
we  behold  all  the  grace  and  truth  of  God.  If  our  eyes 
have  learned  to  behold  and  our  hearts  to  love  Him 
whom  we  have  not  seen,  amid  all  the  bewildering  glares 
and  false  appearances  of  the  present,  our  hopes  will 
happily  discern  Him  and  be  at  rest,  amid  the  splendours 
of  that  solemn  hour  when  He  shall  come  in  His  glory 
to  render  to  every  man  according  to  His  works. 

With  that  hope  the  future,  near  or  far,  has  no  fears 
hidden  in  its  depths.  Without  it,  there  is  no  real 
anchorage  for  our  trembling  hearts,  and  nothing  to  hold 
by  when  the  storm  comes.  The  alternative  is  before 
each  of  us,  "having  Jio  hope,"  or  "looking  for  that 
blessed  hope."  God  help  us  all  to  believe  that  Christ 
has  come  for  me  !  Then  I  shall  be  glad  when  I  think 
that  Christ  will  come  again  to  receive  me  unto  Himself  1 


173 


SERMON     XII. 

A    SONG    OF    DELIVERANCE, 


Psalm  xlviii. 

(l)  Great  is  the  Lord,  and  greatly  to  be  praised  in  the  city  of  our 

God,  in  the  mountain  of  his  holiness.  (2)  Beautiful  for  situation,  the 
Joy  of  the  whole  earth,  is  mount  Zion,  on  the  sides  of  the  north,  the 
city  of  the  great  King.     (3)  God  is  known  in  her  palaces  for  a  refuge. 

(4)  For,  lo,  the  kings  were  assembled,  they  passed  by  together. 
(5)  They  saw  it,  and  so  they  marvelled  ;  they  were  troubled,  and 
hasted  away.  (6)  Fear  took  hold  upon  them  there,  and  pain,  as  of 
a  woman  in  travail.  (7)  Thou  breakest  the  ships  of  Tarshish  with  an 
east  wind.  (8)  As  we  have  heard,  so  have  we  seen  in  the  city  of  the 
Lord  of  hosts,  in  the  city  of  our  God  :  God  will  establish  it  for  ever. 

(9)  We  have  thought  of  thy  lovingkindness,  O  God,  in  the  midst  of 
thy  temple.  (10)  According  to  thy  name,  O  God,  so  is  thy  praise  unto 
the  ends  of  the  earth :  thy  right  hand  is  full  of  righteousness.  (11)  Let 
mount  Zion  rejoice,  let  the  daughters  of  Judah  be  glad,  because  of  thy 
judgments.  (12)  Walk  about  Zion,  and  go  round  about  her  :  tell  the 
towers  thereof.  (13)  Mark  ye  well  her  bulwarks,  consider  her  palaces : 
that  ye  may  tell  it  to  the  generation  following,  (14)  Foi  this  God  is 
our  God  for  ever  and  ever :  he  will  be  our  guide  even  imto  death. 

TTHE  enthusiastic  triumph  which  throbs  in  this  Psalm, 
and  the  specific  details  of  a  great  act  of  deliverance 
from  a  great  peril  which  it  contains,  sufficiently  indicate 
that  it  must  have  had  some  historical  event  as  its  basia 
Can  we  identify  the  fact  which  is  here  embalmed  ? 


T74  A  SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE.  [SERM. 

The  Psalm  gives  these  points — a  formidable  muster 
before  Jerusalem  of  hostile  people  under  confederate 
tings,  with  the  purpose  of  laying  siege  to  the  city  ;  some 
mysterious  check  which  arrests  them  before  a  sword  is 
drawn,  as  if  some  panic  fear  had  shot  from  its  towers  and 
shaken  their  hearts  ;  and  a  flight  in  wild  confusion  from 
the  impregnable  dwelling-place  of  the  Lord  of  hosts 
The  occasion  of  the  terror  is  vaguely  hinted  at,  as  if  some 
solemn  mystery  brooded  over  it.  All  that  is  clear  about 
it  is  that  it  was  purely  the  work  of  the  Divine  hand — "Thoa 
breakest  the  ships  of  Tarshish  with  an  east  wind;"  and 
that  in  this  deliverance,  in  their  own  time,  the  T^e\  ^'re 
minstrels  recognized  the  working  of  the  same  protecting 
grace  which,  from  of  old,  had  "  commanded  deliverances 
for  Jacob." 

Now  there  is  one  event,  and  only  one,  in  Jewish  history, 
which  corresponds,  point  for  point,  to  these  details — the 
crushing  destruction  of  the  Assyrian  army  under  Sennach- 
erib. There,  there  was  the  same  mustering  of  various 
nations,  compelled  by  the  conqueror  to  march  in  his 
train,  and  headed  by  their  tributary  kings.  There,  there 
was  the  same  arrest  before  an  arrow  had  been  shot,  or  a 
mound  raised  against  the  city.  There,  there  was  the 
same  purely  Divine  agency  coming  in  to  destroy  the 
invading  army. 

I  think,  then,  that  from  the  correspondence  of  the 
history  with  the  requirements  of  the  Psalm,  as  well  as 
from  several  similarities  of  expression  and  allusion  be- 
tween the  latter  and  the  prophecies  of  Isaiah,  who  has 
recorded  that  destruction  of  the  invader,  we  may,  with 


xil]  a  song  of  deliverance.  175 

considerable  probability,  regard  this  Psalm  as  the  hymii 
of  triumph  over  the  baffled  Assyrian,  and  the  marvellous 
deliverance  of  Israel  by  the  arm  of  God. 

Whatever  may  be  thought,  however,  of  that  allocation 
of  it  to  a  place  in  the  history,  the  great  truths  that  it 
contains  depend  upon  no  such  identification.  They  are 
truths  for  all  time  ;  gladness  and  consolation  for  all  gen- 
erations. Let  us  read  it  over  together  this  morning,  if, 
perchance,  some  echo  of  the  confidence  and  praise  that 
is  found  in  it  may  be  called  forth  from  our  hearts  !  If  you 
will  look  at  your  Bibles  you  will  find  that  it  falls  into 
three  portions.  There  is  the  glory  of  Zion,  the  deliver- 
ance of  Zion,  and  the  consequent  grateful  praise  and  glad 
trust  of  Zion. 

I.  There  is  i/ie  glory  of  Zion.  Hearken  with  what 
triumph  the  Psalmist  breaks  out :  "  Great  is  the  Lord, 
and  greatly  to  be  praised  in  the  city  of  our  God,  in  the 
mountain  of  his  holiness.  Beautiful  for  situation  (or  rather 
elevation),  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth,  is  mount  Zion,  on 
the  sides  of  the  north,  the  city  of  the  great  King." 

Now  these  words  are  something  more  than  mere 
patriotic  feeling.  The  Jew's  glory  in  Jerusalem  was  a 
different  thing  altogether  from  the  Roman's  pride  in 
Rome.  To  the  devout  men  amongst  them,  of  whom  the 
writer  of  this  Psalm  was  one,  there  was  one  thing,  and 
one  only,  that  made  Zion  glorious.  It  was  beautiful 
indeed  in  its  elevation,  lifted  high  upon  its  rocky  moun- 
tain. It  was  safe  indeed,  isolated  from  the  invader  by  the 
precipitous  ravines  which  inclosed  and  guarded  ihe  angle 
of  the  mountain  plateau  on  which  it  stood  ,  bat  the  one 


176  A  SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE.  [SERM. 

thing  that  gave  it  glory  was  that  in  //  God  abode.  The 
name  even  of  that  earthly  Zion  was  "  Jehovah-Shammah, 
the  Lord  is  there."  And  the  emphasis  of  these  words  is 
entirely  pointed  in  that  direction.  What  they  celebrate 
concerning  Him  is  not  merely  the  general  thought  that 
the  Lord  is  great,  but  that  the  Lord  is  great  in  Zion, 
What  they  celebrate  concerning  it  is  that  it  is  His  city, 
the  mountain  of  His  holiness,  where  He  dwells,  where  He 
manifests  Himself.  Because  there  is  His  self-manifesta- 
tion, therefore  He  is  there  greatly  to  be  praised.  And 
because  the  clear  voice  of  His  praise  rings  out  from  Zion, 
therefore  is  she  "  the  joy  of  the  whole  earth." 

The  Glory  of  Zion,  then,  is  that  it  is  the  dwelling-place 
of  God- 
Now,  remember,  that  when  the  Old  Testament  Scrip- 
ture speaks  about  God  abiding  in  Jerusalem,  it  means  no 
heathenish  or  material  localizing  of  the  Deity,  nor  does  it 
imply  any  depriving  of  the  rest  of  the  earth  of  the  sanctity 
of  His  presence.  The  very  Psalm  which  most  distinctly 
embodies  the  thought  of  God's  abode  protests  against 
that  narrowness,  for  it  begins,  "  The  earth  is  the  Lord's 
and  the  fulness  thereof:  the  world  and  they  that  dwell 
therein."  The  very  ark  which  was  the  symbol  of  His 
presence,  protests  by  its  name  against  all  such  localizing, 
for  the  name  of  it  was  "  the  ark  of  the  covenant  of  the 
God  of  the  whole  earth."  When  the  Bible  speaks  of  Zion 
as  the  dwelling-place  of  God,  it  is  but  the  expression  of 
the  fact  that  there,  between  the  cherubim,  was  the 
visible  sign  of  His  presence — that  there,  in  the 
Temple,    as    from    the    centre    of    the    whole    land, 


XII.]  A  SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE.  1 7  7 


He  ruled,  and   "out  of  Zion,  the  perfection  of  beauty, 
God  shone." 

We  are,  then,  not  "spiritualizing,"  or  forcing  a  New 
Testament  meaning  into  these  words,  when  we  see  ia 
them  an  Eternal  Truth.  We  are  but  following  in  the  steps 
of  history  and  prophecy,  and  Christ  and  His  Apostles, 
and  that  last  vision  of  the  Apocalypse.  We  are  but  dis- 
tinguishing between  an  idea  and  the  fact  which  more  or 
less  perfectly  embodies  it  An  idea  may  have  many  gar- 
ments, may  transmigrate  into  many  different  material 
forms.  The  idea  of  the  dwelling  of  God  with  men  had 
its  less  perfect  embodiment,  has  its  more  perfect  embodi- 
ment, will  have  its  absolutely  perfect  embodiment  It 
had  its  less  perfect  in  that  ancient  time.  It  has  its  real 
but  partial  embodiment  in  this  present  time,  when,  in  the 
midst  of  the  whole  community  of  believing  and  loving 
souls,  which  stretches  wider  than  any  society  that  calls 
itself  a  church,  the  living  God  abides  and  energizes  by 
His  spirit  and  by  His  Son  in  the  souls  of  them  that 
believe  upon  Him.  "  Ye  are  come  unto  Mount  Zion  and 
unto  the  city  of  the  living  God."  And  we  wait  for  the 
time  when,  filling  all  the  air  with  its  light,  there  shall  come 
dovvTi  from  God  a  perfect  and  permanent  form  of  that 
dwelling;  and  that  great  city,  the  New  Jerusalem,  "having 
the  glory  of  God,"  shall  appear,  and  He  will  dwell  with 
men  and  be  their  God.  But  in  all  these  stages  of  the 
embodiment  of  that  great  truth  the  glory  of  Zion  rests  m 
this,  that  in  it  God  abides,  that  from  it  He  flames  in  the 
greatness  of  His  manifestations,  which  are  "  his  praise  in 
all  the  earth."     It  is  that  presence  which  makes  her  fiur, 

3 


178  A  SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE.  [SERM. 

as  it  is  that  presence  which  keeps  her  safe.  It  is  that 
light  shining  within  her  palaces — not  their  own  opaque 
darkness,  which  streams  out  far  into  the  waste  night  with 
ruddy  glow  of  hospitable  invitation.  It  is  God  in  her, 
not  anything  of  her  own,  that  constitutes  her  "  the  joy  of 
the  whole  earth."  "  Thy  beauty  was  perfect,  through  my 
comeliness,  which  I  had  put  upon  thee,  saith  the  Lord.' 
Zion  is  where  hearts  love  and  trust  and  follow  Christ. 
The  "  city  of  the  great  King  "  is  a  permanent  reality  in  a 
partial  form  upon  earth — and  that  partial  form  is  itself  a 
prophecy  of  the  perfection  of  the  heavens. 

II.  Still  further,  there  is  a  second  portion  of  this  Psalm 
which,  passing  beyond  these  introductory  thoughts  of  the 
glory  of  Zion,  recounts  with  wonderful  power  and  vigour 
the  process  of  the  deliverance  of  Zion. 

It  extends  from  the  fourth  to  the  eighth  verses. 

Mark  the  dramatic  vigour  of  the  description  of  the 
deliverance.  There  is,  first,  the  mustering  of  the  armies 
— "The  kings  were  assembled."  Some  light  is  thro\\Ti 
upon  that  phrase  by  the  proud  boast  which  the  prophet 
Isaiah  puts  into  the  lips  of  the  Assyrian  invader,  "Are 
not  my  princes  altogether  kings  ?  "  The  subject-monarchs 
of  the  subdued  nationalities  that  were  gathered  round  the 
tyrant's  standard  were  used,  with  the  wicked  craft  of  con- 
querors in  all  ages,  to  bring  still  other  lands  under  the 
same  iron  dominion.  **  The  kings  were  assembled  " — we 
see  them  gathering  their  far-reaching  and  motley  army, 
mustered  firom  all  corners  of  that  gigantic  empire.  They 
advance  together  against  the  rocky  fortress  that  towers 
above  its  girdling  valleys.     "  They  saw  it,  they  marvelled," 


xn.J  A  SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE.  1 79 

— in  wonder,  perhaps,  at  its  beauty,  as  they  first  catch 
sight  of  its  glittering  whiteness  from  some  hill  crest  on 
their  march  ;  or,  i)erhaps,  stricken  by  some  strange  amaze- 
ment, as  if,  basilisk-like,  its  beauty  were  deadly,  and  a 
beam  from  the  Shechinah  had  shot  a  nameless  awe  into 
their  souls — "  they  vvere  troubled,  they  hasted  away." 

I  need  not  dilate  on  the  power  of  this  description,  nor 
do  more  than  notice  how  the  abruptness  of  the  language, 
huddled  together,  as  it  were,  without  connecting  particles, 
conveys  the  impression  of  hurry  and  confusion,  culminat- 
ing in  the  rush  of  fugitives  fleeing  under  the  influence  of 
panic-terror.  They  are  like  the  well-known  words,  "I 
came,  I  saw,  I  conquered,"  only  that  here  we  have  to  do 
with  swift  defeat — they  came,  they  saw,  they  were  con- 
quered. They  are,  in  regard  to  vivid  picturesqueness, 
arising  from  the  broken  construction,  singularly  like  other 
words  which  refer  to  the  same  event  in  the  forty-sixth 
Psalm,  "  The  heathen  raged,  the  kingdoms  were  moved  : 
he  uttered  his  voice,  the  earth  melted."  In  their  scornful 
emphasis  of  triumph  they  remind  us  of  Isaiah's  description 
of  the  end  of  the  same  invasion — "  So  Sennacherib,  king 
of  Assyria,  departed,  and  went  and  returned,  and  dwelt 
at  Nine  veil." 

Mark,  still  further,  the  eloquent  silence  as  to  the  cause 
of  the  panic  and  the  flight.  There  is  no  appearance  of 
arnied  resistance.  This  is  no  "  Battle  of  the  warrior 
with  garments  rolled  in  blood,"  and  the  shock  of  con- 
tending hosts.  But  an  unseen  hand  smites  once — 
"and  when  the  morning  dawned  they  were  all  dead 
corpses."     The  impression  of  terror  produced  by  such  a 


i8o  A  SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE,  [SERM. 

blow  is  increased  by  the  veiled  allusion  to  it  here.  The 
silence  magnifies  the  deliveranca  If  we  might  apply 
the  grand  words  of  Milton  to  that  night  of  fear — 

**  The  trumpet  spake  not  to  the  armed  throng, 
But  kings  sat  still,  with  awful  eye, 
As  if  they  surely  knew  their  sovereign  Lord  was  by.** 

The  process  of  the  deliverance  is  not  told  here,  as  there 
was  no  need  it  should  be  in  a  hymn  which  is  not  history, 
but  the  lyrical  echo  of  what  is  told  in  history ;  one  image 
explains  it  all — "  Thou  breakest  the  ships  of  Tarshish 
with  an  east  wind."  The  metaphor — one  that  does  not 
need  expansion  here — is  that  of  a  ship  like  a  great  un- 
v^aeldy  galleon,  caught  in  a  tempest  However  strong 
for  fight,  it  is  not  fit  for  sailing.  Like  some  of  those 
turret  ships  of  ours,  if  they  venture  out  firom  the  coast 
and  get  into  a  storm,  their  very  strength  is  their  destruc- 
tion, their  armour  wherein  they  trasted  ensures  that  they 
shall  sink. 

And  so,  this  huge  assailant  of  Israel,  this  great  "galley 
with  oars,"  washing  about  there  in  the  trough  of  the  sea, 
as  it  were — God  broke  it  in  two  with  the  tempest,  which 
is  His  breath.  You  remember  how  on  the  medal  that 
commemorated  the  destruction  of  the  Spanish  Armada — 
our  English  deliverance — there  were  written  the  words  of 
Scriptiure:  "God  blew  upon  them  and  they  were  scat- 
tered." What  was  there  true,  literally,  is  here  true  in 
figure.  The  Psalmist  is  not  thinking  of  any  actual  scatter- 
ing of  hostile  fleets— firom  which  Jerusalem  was  never  in 
danger;  but  is  using  the  shipwreck  of  "the  ship  of 
Tarshish"  as  a  picture  of  the  utter,  swift,  God-inflicted 


XII.]  A  SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE.  l8l 

destruction  which  ground  that  invading  army  to  pieces,  as 
the  savage  rocks  and  wild  seas  will  do  the  strongest  craft 
that  is  mangled  between  them. 

And  then,  mark  how  from  this  dramatic  description 
there  rises  a  loftier  thought  still.  The  deliverance  thus 
described  links  the  present  with  the  past.  "  As  we  have 
heard  so  have  we  seen  in  the  city  of  the  Lord  of  hosts,  in 
the  city  of  our  God." 

Yes,  brethren,  God's  merciful  manifestation  for  ourselves, 
as  for  those  Israelitish  people  of  old,  has  this  blessed 
effect,  that  it  changes  hearsay  and  tradition  into  living 
experience; — this  blessed  effect,  that  it  teaches  us,  or 
ought  to  teach  us,  the  inexhaustibleness  of  the  Divine 
power,  the  constant  repetition  in  every  age  of  the  same 
works  of  love.  Taught  by  it,  we  learn  that  all  these  old 
narratives  of  His  grace  and  help  are  ever  new,  not  past 
and  gone,  but  ready  to  be  reproduced  in  their  essential 
characteristics  in  our  lives  too.  "We  have  heard  with 
our  ears,  O  Lord,  our  fathers  have  told  us  what  work  thou 
didst  in  their  days."  And  is  the  record  only  a  melancholy 
contrast  with  our  own  experience  ?  Nay,  truly.  "  As  we 
have  heard  so  have  we  seen." 

We  are  ever  tempted  to  think  of  the  present  as  common- 
place. The  sky  is  always  farthest  from  earth  right  above 
our  heads.  It  is  at  the  horizon  behind  and  the  horizon  in 
front,  where  earth  and  heaven  seem  to  blend.  We  think 
of  miracles  in  the  past,  we  think  of  a  manifest  presence  of 
God  in  the  future,  but  the  present  ever  seems  to  our 
sense-bound  understandings  as  beggared  and  empty  of 
Him,  devoid  of  His  light     But  this  verse  suggest*  to  us 


1 82  A  SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE.  [sERM. 

how,  if  we  mark  the  daily  dealings  of  that  loving  Hand 
with  us,  we  have  every  occasion  to  say,  Thy  loving  kind- 
ness of  old  lives  still.  Still,  as  of  old,  the  hosts  of  the 
Lord  encamp  round  about  them  that  fear  Him  to  deliver 
them.  Still,  as  of  old,  the  voice  of  guidance  comes  from 
between  the  cherubim.  Still,  as  of  old,  the  pillar  of  cloud 
and  fire  moves  before  us.  Still,  as  of  old,  angels  walk 
with  men.  Still,  as  of  old,  His  hand  is  stretched  forth  to 
bless,  to  feed,  to  guard.  Nothing  in  the  past  of  God's 
dealings  with  men  has  passed  away.  The  eternal  present 
embraces  what  we  call  the  past,  present,  and  future. 
They  that  went  before  do  not  prevent  us  on  whom  the 
ends  of  the  ages  are  come.  The  table  that  was  spread 
for  them  is  as  fully  furnished  for  the  latest  guests.  The 
light,  which  was  so  magical  and  lustrous  in  the  morning 
beauty,  for  us  has  not  faded  away  into  the  light  of 
common  day.  The  river  which  flowed  in  these  past  ages 
has  not  been  drunk  up  by  the  thirsty  sands.  The  fire 
that  once  blazed  so  clear  has  not  died  down  into  grey 
ashes.  "  The  God  oi  Jacob  is  our  refuge."  "  As  we  have 
heard  so  have  we  seen." 

And  then,  still  further,  the  deliverance  here  is  suggested 
as  not  only  linking  most  blessedly  the  present  with  the 
past,  but  also  linking  it  for  our  confidence  with  all  the 
future,     "  God  will  establish  it  for  ever." 

"Old  experience  doth  attain 
To  something  of  prophetic  strain." 

In  the  strength  of  what  that  moment  taught  of  God  and  His 
power,  the  singer  looks  onward,  and  whatever  may  be  the 
future  he  knows  that  the  Divine  arm  will  be  outstretched 


XII.]  A  SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE.  1 83 


God  will  establish  Zion ;  or,  as  the  word  might  be 
translated,  God  will  hold  it  erect,  as  if  with  a  strong  hand 
grasping  some  pole  or  banner-staff  that  else  would  totter 
and  fall — He  will  keep  it  up,  standing  there  firm  and 
steadfast. 

It  would  lead  us  too  far  to  discuss  the  bearing  of  such 
a  prophecy  upon  the  future  history  and  restoration  of 
Israel,  but  the  bearing  of  it  upon  the  security  and  per- 
petuity of  the  Church  is  unquestionable.  The  city  is 
immortal  because  God  dwells  in  it  For  the  individual 
and  for  the  community,  for  the  great  society  and  for  each 
of  the  single  souls  that  make  it  up,  the  history  of  the  past 
may  seal  the  pledge  which  He  gives  for  the  future.  If  it 
had  been  possible  to  destroy  the  church  of  the  living  God, 
it  had  been  gone  long,  long  ago.  Its  own  weakness  and 
sin,  the  ever-new  corruptions  of  its  belief  and  paring  of  its 
creed,  the  imperfections  of  its  life  and  the  worldliness  of 
its  heart,  the  abounding  evils  that  lie  around  it  and  the 
actual  hostility  of  many  that  look  upon  it  and  say,  Raze 
it,  even  to  the  ground,  would  have  smitten  it  to  the  dust 
long  since.  It  lives,  it  has  lived  in  spite  of  all,  and  there- 
fore it  shall  live.     "  God  will  establish  it  for  ever." 

In  almost  every  land  there  is  some  fortress  or  other, 
which  the  pride  of  the  inhabitants  calls  "the  niaiden 
fortress,"  and  whereof  the  legend  is,  that  it  has  never 
been  taken,  and  is  inexpugnable  by  any  foe.  It  is  true 
about  the  tower  of  the  flock,  the  stronghold  of  the 
daughter  of  Zion.  The  grand  words  of  Isaiah  about  this 
very  Assyrian  invader  are  our  answer  to  all  fears  within 
and    foes    without:    "Say   unto    him,    the    virgin,   the 


1 84  A  SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE.  [SERM. 

daughter  of  Zion,  hath  despised  thee,  atid  laughed  thee 
to  scorn;  the  daughter  of  Jerusalem  hath   shaken   her 

head  at  thee I  will  defend  this  city  to  save 

it  for  my  own  sake,  and  for  my  servant  David's  sake." 
"God  will  establish  it  for  ever."  And  the  pledges  of 
that  Eternal  Stability  are  the  deliverances  of  the  past  and 
of  the  present ! 

III.  Then,  finally,  there  is  still  another  section  of  this 
Psalm  to  be  looked  at  for  a  moment,  which  deals  with  the 
comequent  grateful  praise  and  glad  trust  of  Zion. 

I  must  condense  what  few  things  I  have  to  say  about 
these  closing  verses.  The  deliverance,  first  of  all, 
deepens  the  glad  meditation  on  God's  favour  and  de- 
fence. "  We  have  thought,"  say  the  ransomed  people,  aa 
with  a  sigh  of  rejoicing,  **  we  have  thought  of  thy  loving- 
kindness  in  the  midst  of  thy  temple."  The  scene  of  the 
manifestation  of  His  power  is  the  scene  of  their  thank- 
fulness, and  the  first  issue  of  His  mercy  is  His  servants^ 
praise. 

Then,  the  deliverance  spreads  His  fame  throughout 
the  world.  "  According  to  thy  name,  O  God,  so  is  thy 
praise  unto  the  ends  of  the  earth.  Thy  right  hand  is  full 
of  righteousness."  The  name  of  God  is  God's  own 
making  known  of  His  character,  and  the  thought  of  these 
words  is  double.  They  most  beautifully  express  the  pro- 
foundest  trust  in  that  blessed  name  that  it  only  needs  to 
be  known  in  order  to  be  loved  There  is  nothing 
wanted  but  His  manifestation  of  Himself  for  His  praise 
and  glory  to  spread.  Why  is  the  Psalmist  so  sure  that 
according  to  the  revelation  of  His  character  will  be  the 


xil]  a  song  of  deliverance,  185 

revenue  of  His  praise  ?  Because  the  Psalmist  is  so  sure 
that  that  character  is  purely,  perfectly,  simply  good- 
nothing  else  but  good  and  blessing — and  that  He  cannot 
act  but  in  such  a  way  as  to  magnify  Himself.  That  great 
sea  will  cast  up  nothing  on  the  shores  of  the  world  but 
pearls  and  precious  things.  He  is  all  "  light,  and  in  Him 
is  no  darkness  at  all."  There  needs  but  the  shining  forth 
in  order  that  the  light  of  His  character  shall  bring  glad- 
ness and  joy,  and  the  song  of  birds,  and  opening  flowers 
wheresoever  it  falls. 

Still  further,  there  is  the  other  truth  in  the  words,  that 
we  misapprehend  the  purpose  of  our  own  deliverances, 
and  the  purpose  of  God's  mercy  to  Zion,  if  we  confine 
these  to  any  personal  objects  or  lose  sight  of  the  loftier  end 
of  them  all — that  men  may  learn  to  know  and  love  Him. 

Brethren,  we  neither  rightly  thank  Him  for  His  gifts  to 
OS  nor  rightly  apprehend  the  meaning  of  His  dealings, 
unless  the  sweetest  thought  to  us,  even  in  the  midst  of 
our  own  personal  joy  for  deliverance,  is  not  "we  are 
saved,"  but,  "  God  is  exalted." 

And  then,  beyond  that,  the  deliverance  produces  in 
Zion,  the  mother  city  and  her  daughter  villages,  a  triumph 
of  rapture  and  gladness.  "  Let  mount  Zion  rejoice,  let 
the  daughters  of  Judah  be  glad  because  of  thy  judg- 
ments." Yes,  even  though  an  hundred  and  four  score 
and  five  thousand  dead  men  lay  there,  they  were  to  be 
glad.  Solenm  and  awful  as  is  the  baring  of  his  righteous 
sword,  it  is  an  occasion  for  praise.  It  is  right  to  be  glad 
when  men  and  systems  that  hinder  and  fight  against  God 
are  swept  away  as  with  the  besom  of  destruction.    "  When 


f36  A  SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE.  [SERBL 

Lhe  wicked  perish  there  is  shouting."  And  the  fitting 
epitaph  for  the  oppressors  to  whom  the  surges  of  the  Red 
Sea  are  shroud  and  gravestone  is,  "  Sing  ye  to  the  Lord, 
for  he  hath  triumphed  gloriously." 

The  last  verses  set  forth,  more  fully  than  even  the  pre- 
ceding ones,  the  height  and  perfectness  of  the  confidence 
which  the  manifold  mercies  of  God  ought  to  produce  in 
men's  hearts.  The  citizens  who  have  been  cooped  up 
during  the  mvasion,  and  who,  in  the  temple,  as  we  have 
seen,  have  been  rendering  the  tribute  of  their  meditation 
and  thankful  gratitude  to  God  for  His  lovingkindness,  are 
now  called  upon  to  come  forth  from  the  enclosure  of  the 
besieged  city,  and  free  from  all  fear  of  the  invading  army, 
to  "  walk  about  Zion,  and  go  round  about  her  and  tell 
the  towers,"  and  "  mark  her  bulwarks  "  and  palaces. 

They  look  first  at  the  defences,  on  which  no  trace  of 
assault  appears,  and  then  at  the  palaces  guarded  by  them, 
that  stand  shining  and  unharmed.  The  deliverance  has 
been  so  complete  that  there  is  not  a  sign  of  the  peril  or 
the  danger  left  It  is  not  like  a  city  besieged,  and  the 
siege  raised  when  the  thing  over  which  contending  hosts 
have  been  quarrelling  has  become  a  ruin,  but  not  one 
stone  has  been  smitten  from  the  walls,  nor  one  agate 
chipped  in  the  winr'ows  of  the  palaces.  It  is  unharmed 
as  well  as  uncaptm<;d. 

Thus,  we  may  say,  no  matter  what  tempests  assail  us, 
the  wind  will  but  sweep  the  rotten  branches  out  of  the 
tree.  Though  war  should  arise,  nothing  will  be  touched 
that  belongs  to  Thee.  We  have  a  cit>'  which  cannot  be 
moved;  and  the  removal  of  the  things  which  can  be 


XII.]  A  SONG  OF  DELIVERANCE.  187 

shaken  but  makes  more  manifest  its  impregnable  security, 
its  inexpugnable  peace.  As  in  war  they  will  clear  away 
the  houses  and  the  flower  gardens  that  have  been  allowed 
to  come  and  cluster  about  the  walls  and  fill  up  the  moat, 
yet  the  walls  will  stand ;  so  in  all  the  conflicts  that  befall 
God's  church  and  God's  truth,  the  calming  thought  ought 
to  be  ours :  if  anything  perishes  it  is  a  sign  that  it  is  not 
His,  but  man's  excrescence  on  His  building.  Whatever 
is  His  will  stand  for  ever. 

And  then,  with  wonderful  tenderness  and  beauty,  the 
Psalm  in  its  last  words  drops,  as  one  might  say,  in  one 
aspect,  and  in  another,  rises  from  its  contemplations  of 
the  immortal  city  and  the  community  to  the  thought  of 
the  individuals  that  make  it  up :  "  For  this  God  is  our 
God  for  ever  and  ever :  he  will  be  our  guide  even  unto 
death."  Prosaic  commentators  have  often  said  that  these 
last  two  words  are  an  interpolation,  that  they  do  not  fit 
into  the  strain  of  the  Psalm,  and  have  troubled  them- 
selves to  find  out  what  meaning  to  attach  to  them,  because 
it  seemed  to  them  so  unlikely  that,  in  a  hymn  that  had 
only  to  do  with  the  community,  we  should  find  this  ex- 
pression of  individual  confidence  in  anticipation  of  that 
most  purely  personal  of  all  evils.  That  seems  to  me  the 
very  reason  for  holding  fast  by  the  words  as  being  a 
genuine  part  of  the  Psalm,  because  they  express  a  truth, 
without  which  the  confident  hope  of  the  Psalm,  grand  as 
it  is,  is  but  poor  consolation  for  each  heart.  It  is  not 
enough  for  passing,  perishing  men  to  say,  "  Never  mind 
your  own  individual  fate:  the  society,  the  community, 
will  stand  fast  and  firm." 


1 88  A  SONC  OF  DELIVERANCE. 

I  want  something  more  than  to  know  that  God  will 
establish  Zion  for  ever.  What  about  me,  ray  own  individual 
self?  And  the  last  words  answer  that  Not  merely  the 
city  abides,  but  "  He  will  be  our  guide  even  unto  death.** 
And  surely,  if  so — ^if  His  loving  hand  will  lead  the  citizens 
of  His  eternal  kingdom  even  to  the  edge  of  that  great 
darkness, — He  will  not  lose  them  even  in  its  gloom. 
Surely  there  is  here  the  veiled  hope  that  if  the  city  be 
eternal  and  the  gates  of  the  grave  cannot  prevail  against 
it,  the  community  cannot  be  eternal  unless  the  individuals 
be  immortal. 

Such  a  hope  is  vindicated  by  the  blessed  words  of  a 
newer  revelation  :  "  God  is  not  ashamed  to  be  called  their 
God,  for  he  hath  prepared  for  them  a  city." 

Dear  brethren,  remember  the  last  words,  or  all  but  the 
last  words  of  Scripture  which,  in  their  true  text  and 
reading,  tell  us  how,  instead  of  aliens  from  the  common- 
wealth of  Israel,  we  may  become  fellov*r-citizens  with  the 
saints.  "Blessed  are  they  that  wash  tlieir  robes  that 
they  may  have  a  right  to  the  tree  of  life,  and  may  enter 
in  through  the  gate  into  the  cityl* 


i89 


SERMON    XIII. 

CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROS& 


LUKK  iz,  51. 


And  it  came  to  ptss,  when  the  time  was  come  that  he  should  be 
received  up,  he  steadfastly  set  his  face  to  go  to  Jerusalem. 

nPHERE  are  some  difficulties,  with  which  I  need  not 
trouble  you  here,  as  to  bringing  the  section  of  this 
Gospel  to  which  these  words  are  the  introduction,  into 
its  proper  chronological  place  in  relation  to  the  narratives; 
but,  putting  these  on  one  side  for  the  present,  there 
seems  no  doubt  that  the  Evangelist's  intention  here  is  to 
represent  the  beginning  of  our  Lord's  last  journey  firom 
Galilee  to  Jerusalem — a  journey  which  was  protracted 
and  devious,  and  the  narrative  of  which  in  this  Gospel, 
as  you  will  perceive,  occupies  a  very  large  portion  of  its 
whole  contents. 

I  he  picture  that  is  given  in  my  text  is  that  of  a  clear 
knowledge  of  what  waited  Him,  of  a  steadfast  resolve  to 
accomplish  the  purpose  of  the  Divine  love,  and  that 
resolve  not  without  such  a  shrinking  of  some  part  of  His 
natiue  that  He  had  "  to  set  His  face  to  go  to  Jerusalem." 

The  words  come  into  parallelism  very  stnJtmgiy  with 


190       CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS.       [SERM. 

a  great  prophecy  of  the  Messiah  in  the  Book  of  the 
Prophet  Isaiah,  where  we  read,  "  The  Lord  God  will 
help  me,  therefore  shall  I  not  be  confounded" — or,  as 
the  words  have  been  rendered,  "  shall  not  suifer  myself 
to  be  overcome  by  mockery  " — "  therefore  have  I  set  my 
face  Hke  a  flint"  In  both  the  words  of  the  Prophet  and 
of  the  Evangelist  there  is  the  same  idea  of  a  resolved 
will,  as  the  result  of  a  conscious  effort  directed  to  prevent 
circumstances  which  tended  to  draw  Him  back  from 
producing  their  eifect  The  graphic  narrative  of  the 
Evangelist  Mark  adds  one  more  striking  point  to  that 
picture  of  high  resolve.  He  tells  us,  speaking  of  what 
appears  to  be  the  final  epoch  in  this  long  journey  to  the 
cross,  "They  were  in  the  way,  going  up  to  Jerusalem, 
and  Jesus  went  before  them ;  and  they  were  amazed : 
and  as  they  followed,  they  were  afraid."  What  a  picture 
that  is,  Christ  striding  along  the  steep  mountain  path  far 
in  advance — impelled  by  that  same  longing  which  sighs 
so  wonderfully  in  His  words,  "  How  am  I  straitened  till 
it  be  accomplished," — with  solemn  determination  in  the 
gentle  face,  and  His  feet  making  haste  to  run  in  the  way 
of  the  Father's  commandments  !  And  lagging  behind, 
the  little  group,  awed  into  almost  stupor,  and  shrinking 
in  uncomprehending  terror  from  that  light  of  unconquer- 
able resolve  and  more  than  mortal  heroism  that  blazed 
in  His  eyes ! 

If  we  fix,  then,  on  this  picture,  and,  as  we  are  warranted 
in  doing,  regard  it  as  giving  us  a  glimpse  of  the  very 
^eart  of  Christ,  I  think  it  may  well  suggest  to  us  consider- 
ations  that   may  tend  to    make    more   real   to   us    that 


XIII.]         CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS.         IQi 

sacrifice  that  He  made,  more  deep  to  us  that  love  by 
wliich  He  was  impelled,  and  may,  perhaps,  tend  to  make 
our  love  more  true  and  our  resolve  more  fixed.  "He 
%et  his  face  to  go  to  Jerusalem." 

I.  First,  then,  we  may  take,  I  think,  from  these  words, 
the  thought  of  the  perfect  clearness  ivlth  which  all  through 
Christ's  life  He  foresaw  the  inevitable  and  purposed  end. 

Here,  indeed,  the  Evangelist  leaps  over  the  suffering 
of  the  cross,  and  thmks  only  of  the  time  when  He  shall 
be  lifted  up  upon  the  throne ;  but  in  that  calm  and 
certain  prevision  which,  in  His  manhood,  the  Divine  Son 
of  God  did  exercise  concerning  His  own  earthly  life, 
between  Him  and  tlie  glory  there  ever  stood  the  black 
shadow  thrown  by  Calvary.  When  He  spoke  of  being 
"  lifted  up,"  He  ever  meant  by  that  pregnant  and  com- 
prehensive word,  at  once  man's  elevation  of  Him  on  the 
accursed  tree,  and  the  Father's  elevation  of  Him  upon 
the  throne  at  His  right  hand  !  The  future  was,  if  I  may 
so  say,  in  His  eye  so  foresliortened  that  the  two  things 
ran  into  one,  and  the  ambiguous  expression  did  truly 
connote  the  one  undivided  act  of  prescient  consciousness 
in  which  He  at  once  recognized  the  cross  and  the  throne. 
"And  so,  when  the  time  was  come  that  he  should  be 
received  up,  he  steadfastly  set  his  face  to  go  to 
Jerusalem." 

Now,  there  is  another  thing  to  be  noticed.  That 
vision  of  the  certain  end  which  here  fills  His  mind  and 
impels  His  conduct,  was  by  no  means  new  with  Him. 
Modem  unbelieving  commentators  and  critics  upon  the 
OosDels  have  tried  their  best  to  represent  Christ's  life  as, 


192       CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS,       [SERM. 

at  a  certain  point  in  it,  being  modified  by  His  recognition 
of  the  fact  that  His  mission  was  a  failure,  and  that  there 
was  nothing  left  for  Him  but  martyrdom  !  I  believe 
that  that  is  as  untrue  to  the  facts  of  the  Gospel  stoiy 
upon  any  interpretation  of  them,  as  it  is  repulsive  to  the 
instincts  of  devout  hearts;  and  without  troubling  you 
with  thoughts  about  it  I  need  only  refer  to  two  words  of 
His.  When  was  it  that  He  said,  "  Destroy  this  temple, 
and  in  three  days  I  will  build  it  up "  ?  When  was  it 
that  He  said,  "As  Moses  lifted  up  the  serpent  in  the 
wilderness,  even  so  must  the  Son  of  Man  be  lifted  up  "  ? 
The  one  saying  was  uttered  at  the  very  beginning  of  His 
public  work,  and  the  other  in  His  conversation  with 
Nicodemus.  On  the  testimony  of  these  two  sayings,  if 
there  were  none  else,  I  think  there  is  no  option  but  to 
believe  that  from  the  first  there  stood  clear  before  Him 
the  necessity  and  the  certainty  of  the  cross,  and  that  it 
was  no  discovery  made  at  a  certain  point  of  the  course. 

And  then,  remember  that  we  are  not  to  think  of  Him 
as,  like  many  an  earthly  hero  and  martyr,  regarding  a 
violent  and  bloody  death  as  being  the  very  probable 
result  of  faithful  boldness,  but  to  beheve  that  He,  looking 
on  from  the  beginning  to  that  end,  regarded  it  always  as 
being  laid  upon  Him  by  a  certain  Divine  necessity,  into 
which  necessity  He  entered  with  the  full  submission  and 
acquiescence  of  His  own  will,  and  firom  the  beginning 
knew  that  Calvary  was  the  work  for  which  He  had  come, 
and  that  His  love  failed  of  its  expression,  and  the  Divine 
purpose  failed  of  its  realization,  and  His  whole  mission 
failed  of  all  its  meaning,  unless  He  died  for  men. 


XIII.]         CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS.         193 

The  mart)rr  looks  to  the  scaffold  and  says,  **  It  stands 
in  my  way,  and  I  must  either  be  untrue  to  conscience  or 
1  must  go  there,  and  so  I  will  go."  Christ  said,  "  The 
cross  is  in  my  path,  and  on  it  and  from  it  1  exercise  the 
influence,  to  exercise  which  1  have  come  into  the  world, 
and  there  I  do  the  thing  which  I  came  forth  from  the 
Father  to  do."  He  thought  of  His  death  not  as  the  end 
of  His  work,  but  as  the  centre-point  of  it ;  not  as  the 
termination  of  His  activity,  but  as  its  climax,  to  which  all 
the  rest  was  subordinated,  and  without  which  all  the  rest 
was  naught  He  does  not  die,  and  so  seal  a  faithful  life 
by  an  heroic  death, — but  dies,  so  bearing  and  bearing 
away  man's  sin.  He  regarded  from  the  beginning  "  the 
glory  that  should  follow,"  and  the  suffering  through  which 
he  had  to  wade  to  reach  it,  in  one  and  the  same  act  of 
prescience,  and  said,  "  Lo,  I  come,  in  the  volume  of  the 
book  it  is  written  of  me." 

And  I  think,  dear  friends,  if  we  carried  with  us  more 
distinctly  than  we  do  that  one  simple  thought,  that  in  all 
the  human  joys,  in  all  the  apparently  self-forgetting 
tenderness,  of  that  Lord  who  had  a  heart  for  every 
sorrow  and  an  ear  for  every  complaint,  and  a  hand  open 
as  day  and  full  of  melting  charity  for  every  need — that 
in  every  moment  of  that  life,  in  the  boyhood,  in  the 
dawning  manhood,  in  the  maturity  of  His  growing  human 
power — there  was  always  present  one  black  shadow, 
towards  which  He  ever  went  straight  with  the  consent  of 
His  will  and  the  clearest  eye,  we  should  imderstand  some- 
thing more  of  how  the  life  as  well  as  the  death  was  a 
sacrifice  for  as  sinful  men  1 

3 


194        CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS,      [SERM. 

We  honour  and  love  men  who  crush  down  their  own 
sorrows  in  order  to  help  their  fellows.  We  wonder  with 
almost  reverence  when  we  see  some  martyr,  in  sight  of 
the  faggots,  pause  to  do  a  kindness  to  some  weeping 
heart  in  the  crowd,  or  to  speak  a  cheering  word.  We 
admire  the  leisure  and  calm  of  spirit  which  he  displays. 
But  all  these  pale,  and  the  very  comparison  may  become  an 
insult,  before  that  heart  which  ever  discerned  Calvary,  and 
never  let  the  sight  hinder  one  deed  of  kindness,  nor  silence 
one  gracious  word,  nor  check  one  throb  of  sympathy. 

II.  Still  further,  the  words  before  us  lead  to  a  second 
consideration,  which  I  have  just  suggested  in  my  last 
sentence — Our  Lord's  perfect  willingness  for  the  sacrifice 
which  He  saw  before  Him. 

We  have  here  brought  into  the  narrowest  compass,  and 
most  clearly  set  forth,  the  great  standing  puzzle  of  all 
thought,  which  can  only  be  solved  by  action.  On  the 
one  side  there  is  the  distinctest  knowledge  of  a  Divine 
purpose  that  will  be  executed ;  on  the  other  side  there  is 
the  distinctest  consciousness  that  at  each  step  towards 
the  execution  of  it  He  is  constrained  by  no  foreign  and 
imposed  necessity,  but  is  going  to  the  cross  by  His  own 
will  "  The  Son  of  Man  must  be  lifted  up."  "  It  became 
him  to  make  the  Captain  of  salvation  perfect  through 
sufferings."  "It  behoved  him  to  be  made  in  all  points 
like  his  brethren."  The  Eternal  Will  of  the  Father,  the 
purpose  purposed  before  the  foundation  of  the  world,  the 
solemn  prophecies  from  the  beginning  of  time,  constituted 
the  necessity,  and  mvolved  the  certainty,  of  His  death  on 
the  Cross. 


XIIL]        CHRIST  hastening  TO  THE  CROSS,         1 95 

But  are  we,  therefore,  to  think  that  Jesus  Christ  was 
led  along  the  path  that  ended  there,  by  a  force  which 
overbore  and  paralysed  His  human  will  ?  Was  not  His 
life,  and  especially  His  death,  obedience  1  Was  there  not, 
therefore,  in  Him,  as  in  us  all,  the  human  will  that  could 
cheerfully  submit ;  and  must  there  not,  then,  have  been, 
at  each  step  towards  the  certain  end,  a  fresh  act  of  sub- 
mission and  accepting  the  will  of  the  Father  that  had 
sent  Him  ? 

Clear  knowledge  of  the  end  as  Divinely  appointed  and 
certain  !  Yes,  one  might  say,  and  if  so,  there  could  have 
been  no  voluntariness  in  treading  the  path  that  leads  to 
it  Voluntariness  in  treading  the  path  that  leads  to  it, 
and  if  so,  there  could  have  been  no  Divine  ordination  of 
the  end.  Not  so !  When  human  thought  comes,  if  I 
may  so  say,  full  butt  against  a  stark,  staring  contradiction 
like  that,  it  is  no  proof  that  either  of  the  propositions  is 
false.  It  is  only  like  the  sign-boards  that  the  icemen  put 
upon  the  thin  ice,  **  dangerous  ! "  a  warning  that  that  is 
not  a  place  for  us  to  tread.  We  have  to  keep  a  firm 
hold  of  what  is  certified  to  us,  on  either  side,  by  its 
appropriate  evidence,  and  leave  the  reconciliation,  if  it 
can  ever  be  given  to  finite  beings,  to  a  higher  wisdom, 
and,  perchance,  to  another  world  ! 

But  that  is  a  digression  from  my  more  immediate 
purpose,  which  is  simply  to  bring  before  our  minds,  as 
clearly  as  I  can,  that  perfect,  continuous,  ever  repeated 
willingness,  expressing  itself  in  a  chain  of  constant  acts 
that  touch  one  upon  the  other,  that  Christ  manifested  to 
embrace  the  cross,  and  to  accomplish  what  was  at  once 


196        CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS.      [SERM. 

the  purpose  of  the  Father's  will  and  the  purpose  of  His 
own. 

And  it  may  be  worth  while,  just  for  a  moment,  to 
touch  lightly  upon  some  of  the  many  points  which  bring 
out  so  clearly  in  these  Gospel  narratives  the  wholly  and 
purely  voluntary  character  of  Christ's  death. 

Take,  for  instance,  the  very  journey  I  am  speaking 
about  now.  Christ  went  up  to  Jerusalem,  says  my  text 
What  did  He  go  there  for  ?  He  went,  as  you  will  see, 
if  you  look  at  the  previous  circumstance,— He  went  in 
order,  if  I  might  use  such  a  word,  to  precipitate  the 
collision,  and  to  make  His  crucifixion  certain  !  He  was 
under  the  ban  of  the  Sanhedrim;  but  perfectly  safe 
as  long  as  He  had  stopped  down  among  the  hills  of 
Galilee.  He  was  as  unsafe  when  He  went  up  to  Jerusalem 
as  John  Huss  when  he  went  to  the  Council  of  Constance 
with  the  Emperor's  safe-conduct  in  his  belt ;  or  as  a  con- 
demned heretic  would  have  been  in  the  old  days,  if  he 
had  gone  and  stood  in  that  little  dingy  square  outside 
the  palace  of  the  Inquisition  at  Rome,  and  there,  below 
the  obeHsk,  preached  his  heresies  1  Christ  had  been  con- 
demned in  the  council  of  the  nation;  but  there  were 
plenty  of  hiding-places  among  the  Galilean  hills,  and  the 
frontier  was  close  at  hand,  and  it  needed  a  long  arm  to 
reach  from  Jerusalem  all  the  way  across  Samaria  to  the 
far  North.  Knowing  that.  He  steadfastly  set  His  face 
to  go  to  Jerusalem,  and,  if  I  might  use  the  expression, 
went  straight  into  the  lion's  mouth.  \Vhy?  Because 
He  chose  to  die. 
And,  then,  take  another  circumstance.    If  you  will  look 


XIII.]         CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS.         1 97 

carefully  at  the  Scripture  narrative,  you  will  find  that  from 
about  this  point  in  His  life  onwards  there  comes  a  dis- 
tinct change  in  one  very  important  respect.  Before  then 
He  shunned  publicity ;  after  this  He  courted  it.  Before 
then,  when  He  spoke  in  veiled  words  of  His  sufferings, 
He  said  to  His  disciples,  "  Tell  no  man  till  the  Son  of 
Man  be  risen  from  the  dead."  Hereafter,  though  tliere 
be  frequent  prophecies  of  His  sufferings,  there  is  no  re- 
j)etition  of  that  prohibition.  He  goes  up  to  Jerusalem, 
and  that  triumphal  entry  adds  fuel  to  the  fire.  His 
language  at  the  last  moment  appeals  to  the  publicity  of 
His  final  visit  to  that  city — "  Was  I  not  daily  with  you 
in  the  temple,  and  ye  laid  no  hands  upon  me?"  Every- 
thing that  He  could  do  He  does  to  draw  attention  to 
Himself — everything,  that  is  to  say,  within  the  limits  of 
the  Divine  decorum,  which  was  ever  observed  in  His  life, 
of  whom  it  was  written  long,  long  ago,  "He  shall  not 
strive,  nor  cry,  nor  cause  his  voice  to  be  heard  in  the 
streets."  There  is,  then,  a  most  unmistakable  change  to 
be  felt  by  any  who  will  carefully  read  the  narratives  in 
their  bearing  upon  this  one  point — a  resolve  to  draw  the 
eyes  of  the  enemy  upon  Himself. 

And  to  the  same  purpose,  did  you  ever  notice  how 
calmly,  with  full  self-consciousness,  distinctly  understand- 
ing what  He  is  doing,  distinctly  knowing  to  what  it  will 
lead.  He  makes  His  words  ever  heavier  and  heavier,  and 
more  and  more  sharply  pointed  with  denunciations,  as 
the  last  loving  wrestle  between  Himself  and  the  scribes 
and  Pharisees  draws  near  to  its  bloody  close  ?  Instead 
of  softening  He  hardens  His  tones — if  I  dare  use  the 


198        CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS.      [SERM. 

word,  where  all  is  the  result  of  love — at  any  rate  He 
keeps  no  terms ;  but  as  the  danger  increases  His  words 
become  plainer  and  sterner,  and  approach  as  near  as  ever 
His  words  could  do  to  bitterness  and  rebuke.  It  was 
then,  whilst  passionate  hate  was  raging  round  Him,  and 
eager  eyes  were  gleaming  revenge,  that  He  poured  out 
His  sevenfold  woes  upon  the  "  hypocrites,"  the  "  blind 
guides,"  the  "  fools,"  the  "  whited  sepulchres,"  the  "  ser- 
pents," the  "  generation  of  vipers,"  whom  He  sees  filling 
up  the  measure  of  their  fathers  in  shedding  His  righteous 
blood. 

And  again,  the  question  recurs — ^Why?  And  again, 
besides  other  reasons,  which  I  have  not  time  to  touch 
upon  here,  the  answer,  as  it  seems  to  me,  must  unmis- 
takably be.  Because  He  willed  to  die,  and  He  willed  to 
die  because  He  loved  us ! 

The  same  lesson  is  taught,  too,  by  that  remarkable 
incident  preserved  for  us  by  the  Gospel  of  John,  of  the 
strange  power  which  accompanied  His  avowal  of  Himself 
to  the  rude  soldiers  who  had  come  to  seize  Him,  and 
struck  them  to  the  ground  in  terror  and  impotence. 
One  flash  comes  forth  to  tell  of  the  sleeping  lightning 
that  He  will  not  use,  and  then  having  revealed  the  might 
that  could  have  delivered  Him  from  their  puny  arms,  He 
returns  to  His  attitude  of  self-surrender  for  our  sakes, 
with  those  wonderful  words  which  tell  how  He  gave  up 
Himself  that  we  might  be  free,  "  If  ye  seek  me,  let  these 
go  their  way."  The  scene  is  a  parable  of  the  whole  work 
of  Jesus ;  it  reveals  His  power  to  have  shaken  off  every 
hand  laid  upon  Him,  His  voluntary  submission  tc   His 


XIIl]         CHRIST  hastening  TO  THE  CROSS.         199 

else  impotent  murderers,  and  the  love  which  moved 
Him  to  the  surrender. 

Other  illustrations  of  the  same  sort  I  must  leave  un- 
touched at  present,  and  only  remind  you  of  the  remark- 
able peculiarity  of  the  language  in  which  all  the  Evangel- 
ists describe  the  supreme  moment  when  Christ  passed 
from  His  sufferings.  "  When  He  had  cried  with  a  loud 
voice,  He  yielded  up  the  ghost," — He  sent  away  the 
Spirit — "He  breathed  out"  (the  Spirit),  "He  gave  up 
the  ghost"  In  simple  truth,  He  "committed  his  Spirit" 
into  the  Father's  hand.  And  I  believe  that  it  is  an 
accurate  and  fair  comment  to  say,  that  that  is  no  mere 
euphemism  for  death,  but  carries  with  it  the  thought 
that  He  was  active  in  that  moment;  that  the  nails  and  the 
spear  and  the  cross  did  not  kill  Christ,  but  that  Christ 
willed  to  die !  And  though  it  is  true  on  the  one  side,  as 
far  as  men's  hatred  and  purpose  are  concerned,  "  Whom 
with  wicked  hand  ye  have  crucified  and  slain:"  on  the 
other  side,  as  far  as  the  deepest  verity  of  the  fact  is  con- 
cerned, it  is  still  more  true,  "  I  have  power  to  lay  it 
down,  and  I  have  power  to  take  it  again." 

But  at  all  events,  whatever  you  may  think  of  such  an 
exposition  as  that,  the  great  principle  which  my  text 
illustrates  for  us  at  an  earlier  stage  is,  at  least,  irrefrag- 
ably  established — that  our  dear  Lord,  when  He  died, 
died,  because  He  willed  to  do  so.  He  was  man  and 
therefore  He  could  die;  but  He  was  not  man  in  such 
fashion  as  that  He  inust  die.  In  His  bodily  frame  was 
the  possibility,  not  the  necessity,  of  death.  And  that 
being  so,  the  very  fact  of  His  death  is  the  most  signal 


200         CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS.      [SERM. 

proof  that  He  is  Lord  of  death  as  well  as  of  life.  He 
dies  not  because  He  must,  He  dies  not  because  of 
faintness  and  pain  and  wounds.  These  and  they  who 
inflicted  them  had  no  power  at  all  over  Him.  He  chooses 
to  die ;  and  He  wills  it  because  He  wills  to  fulfil  the 
eternal  purpose  of  Divine  love,  which  is  His  purpose, 
and  to  bring  life  to  the  world  His  hour  of  weakness 
was  His  hour  of  strength.  They  lifted  Him  on  a  cross, 
and  it  became  a  throne.  In  the  moment  when  Death 
seemed  to  conquer  Him,  He  was  really  using  it  that  He 
might  abolish  it.  When  He  gave  up  the  ghost,  He 
showed  Himself  Lord  of  death  as  marvellously  and  as 
gloriously  as  when  He  burst  its  bands  and  rose  from 
the  grave  ;  for  this  grisly  shadow,  too,  was  His  servant, 
and  He  says  to  him,  *'  Come,  and  he  cometh ;  do  this, 
and  he  doeth  it."  Thou  didst  overcome  the  sharpness 
of  death  when  Thou  didst  willingly  bow  Thy  head  to  it, 
and  didst  die,  not  because  Thou  w«x/,  but  because  Thou 
ivouldest 

in.  Still  further,  let  me  remind  you  how,  in  the 
language  of  this  verse,  there  is  also  taught  us  that  there 
li'as  in  Christ  a  Natural  Human  Shrinking  from  the  Cross. 

That  steadfast  and  resolved  will  held  its  own,  over- 
coming the  natural  human  reluctance.  "  He  set  his 
face."  People  are  afraid  to  talk — and  the  instinct,  the 
reverent  instinct,  is  right,  howsoever  we  may  differ  from 
the  application  of  it — people  are  afraid  to  talk,  as  if  there 
was  any  shrinking  in  Christ  from  the  Cross.  I  believe 
there  was.  Was  the  agony  in  Gethsemane  a  reality  or  a 
ihadow,  when  He  said,  "  O  my  Father,  if  it  be  possible^ 


XIII.]        CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS.         201 

let  this  cup  pass  "  ?     What  did  that  prayer  mean  if  there 
was  not  something  in  His  nature  that  recoiled  from  the 
agony  and  mysterious  horror  of  these  awful  hours  ?     Let 
us  take  heed  lest  in  our  reverence  we  destroy  the  very 
notion  on  which  our  hope  rests — that  of  Christ  as  suffer- 
ing.   For  that  one  word  involves  all  that  I  say— Did  Christ 
suffer  or  did  He  not  ?     If  he  suffered,  then  human  nature 
shrank  from  it.    The  two  ideas  are  correlative.    You  can- 
not part  them— suffering  and  reluctance.      A  perfectly 
innocent,  natural,  inevitable,  human  instinct,  inseparable 
from  corporeity,  that  makes  men  recoil  from  pain.     "  He 
endured  the  Cross,"  says  the  Book— if  there  were  not 
reluctance  what  was  there  to  "endure  "  ?   "  Despising  the 
shame"— if  there  was  not   something  from  which  He 
shrank,  what  was  there  to  "despise"?     "  He  set  his  face" 
—if  there  was  not  something  that  hung  back,  what  need 
was  there  for  the  hardening  of  the  countenance?      If 
Christ  has  suffered,  then  His  flesh  and  blood  quivered 
beforehand  with  the  pangs  and  shrank  from  these,  and 
He  would  have  been  spared  the  cup.     Such  instinctive 
recoil  is  not  evil,  it  is  not  rebellion,  it  is  not  unwillingness 
to  submit  to  the  Father's  Avill.     His  whole  Being  clave 
to  that,  and  never  swerved  from  it  for  one  moment     But 
still,  because  the  path  was  darkened  by  mysterious  black- 
ness, and  led  to  a  Cross,  therefore  He,  even  He,  who 
did  always  the  things  that  pleaseth  the  Father,  and  ever 
delighted  to  f^o  His  will,  needed  to  ''set  his  face"  to  go 
up  to  the  mountain  of  sacrifice. 

And  now,  if  you  will  take  along  with  that  the  other 
thought   that    I   suggested   at  the   beginning  of   these 


202         CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS.      [SEFM. 

remarks,  and  remember  that  this  shrinking  must  have 
been  as  continuous  as  the  vision,  and  that  this  overcoming 
of  it  must  have  been  as  persistent  and  permanent  as  the 
resolve,  I  think  we  get  a  point  of  view  from  which  to 
regard  that  Ufe  of  Christ's — full  of  pathos,  full  of  tender 
appeals  to  our  hearts  and  to  our  thankfulness. 

All  along  that  consecrated  road  He  walked,  and  each 
step  represents  a  separate  act  of  will,  and  each  separate 
act  of  will  represents  a  triumph  over  the  reluctance  of 
flesh  and  blood.  As  we  may  say,  every  time  he  planted 
His  foot  on  the  flinty  path  the  blood  flowed.  Every  step 
was  a  pain  like  that  of  a  man  enduring  the  ordeal  and 
walking  on  burning  iron  or  sharp  steel. 

The  old  taunt  of  His  enemies,  as  they  stood  beneath 
His  cross,  might  have  been  yielded  to — "  If  thou  be  the 
Son  of  God,  come  down  and  we  will  believe."  I  ask  why 
did  not  He?  I  know  that,  to  those  who  think  less  loftily 
of  Christ  than  we  who  believe  Him  to  be  the  Son  of  God, 
the  words  sound  absurd — but  I  for  one  believe  that  the 
only  thing  that  kept  Him  there,  the  only  answer  to  that 
question  is — Because  He  loved  me  with  an  everlasting 
love,  and  died  to  redeem  me.  Because  of  that  love,  He 
came  to  earth  ;  because  of  that  love,  He  tabernacled 
among  us ;  because  of  that  love,  He  gazed  all  His  life 
long  on  the  cross  of  shame ;  because  of  that  love.  He 
trod  unfaltering,  with  eager  haste  and  solemn  resolve,  the 
rough  and  painful  road ;  because  of  that  love,  He  listened 
not  to  the  voice  that  at  the  beginning  tempted  Him  to 
win  the  world  for  Himself  by  an  easier  path ;  because  of 
that  love,  He  listened  not — though  he  could  have  done  it 


XIIl]         CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS.         203 

— to  the  voices  that  at  the  end  taunted  Him  with  their 
proffered  allegiance  if  He  would  come  down  from  the 
Cross  ;  because  of  that  love,  He  gave  up  His  Spirit.  And 
through  all  the  weariness  and  contumely  and  pain,  that 
love  held  His  will  fixed  to  its  purpose,  and  bore  Him 
over  every  hindrance  that  barred  His  path.  Many  waters 
quench  it  not.  That  love  is  stronger  than  death  \  mightier 
than  all  opposing  powers  ;  deep  and  great  beyond  all 
thought  or  thankfulness.  It  silences  all  praise.  It 
beggars  all  recompense.  To  believe  it  is  life.  To  feel  it 
is  heaven. 

But  one  more  remark  I  would  make  on  this  whole 
subject.  We  are  far  too  much  accustomed  to  think  of 
our  Saviour  as  presenting  only  the  gentler  graces  of 
human  nature.  He  presents  those  that  belong  to  the 
strong  side  of  our  nature  just  as  much.  In  Him  is  all 
power,  manly  energy,  resolved  consecration;  everything 
which  men  call  heroism  is  there.  *'He  steadfastly  set  his 
face."  And  everything  which  men  call  tenderest  love, 
most  dev/y  pity,  most  marvellous  and  transcendent 
patience,  it  is  all  there  too.  The  type  of  manhood  and 
the  type  of  womanhood  are  both  and  equally  in  Jesus 
Christ;  and  He  is  the  man,  whole,  entire,  perfect,  with  all 
power  breathed  forth  in  all  gentleness,  with  all  gentle- 
ness made  steadfast  and  mighty  by  His  strength.  "  And 
he  said  unto  me.  Behold  the  lion  of  the  tribe  of  Judah. 
And  I  beheld,  and  lo,  a  lamb ! " — the  blended  symbols  of 
kingly  might,  and  lowly  meekness — power  in  love,  and 
love  in  power.  The  supremest  act  of  resolved  consecra- 
tion and  heroic  self-immolation  that  ever  was  done  upon 


204        CHRIST  HASTENING  TO  THE  CROSS. 

earth — an  act  which  we  degrade  by  paralleling  it  with  any 
other — was  done  at  the  bidding  of  the  love  that  pitied 
us.  As  we  look  up  at  that  cross  we  know  not  wliether 
is  more  wonderfully  set  forth  the  pitying  love  of  Christ's 
most  tender  heart,  or  the  majestic  energy  of  Christ's  re- 
solved will.  The  blended  rays  pour  out,  dear  brethren, 
and  reach  to  each  of  us.  Do  not  look  to  that  great 
sacrifice  with  idle  wonder.  Bend  upon  it  no  eye  of  mere 
curiosity.  Beware  of  theorizing  merely  about  what  it  re- 
veals and  what  it  does.  Turn  not  away  from  it  carelessly 
as  a  twice  told  tale.  But  look,  believing  that  all  that 
Divine  and  Human  Love  pours  out  its  treasure  upon  you, 
that  all  that  firmness  of  resolved  consecration  and  willing 
surrender  to  the  death  of  the  cross  was  for  you.  Look, 
believing  that  you  had  then,  and  have  now,  a  place  in  His 
heart,  and  in  His  sacrifice.  Look,  remembering  that  it 
was  because  He  would  save  you,  that  Himself  He  could 
not  save. 

And  as,  from  afar,  we  look  on  that  great  sight,  let  His 
love  melt  our  hearts  to  an  answering  fervour,  and  His 
fixed  will  give  us,  too,  strength  to  delight  in  obedience, 
to  set  our  faces  like  a  flint.  Let  the  power  of  His  sacri- 
fice, and  the  influence  of  His  example  which  that  sacrifice 
commends  to  our  loving  copy,  and  the  grace  of  His 
Spirit  whom  He,  since  that  sacrifice,  pours  upon  men,  sc 
mould  us  that  we,  too,  like  Him,  may  "  quit  us  like  men, 
be  strong,"  and  all  our  strength  and  "  all  our  deeds  "  be 
melded  and  "  done  in  charity." 


SERMON     XIV. 

PARDON     WITH     PUNISHMENT. 


Psalm  xcix,  8. 

rhou  wast  a  God  that  foi^avest  them,  though  thou  tookest  ven- 
^  ance  of  their  inventions. 

A  X  ^HEN  the  Prophet  Isaiah  saw  his  great  vision  of  the 
King  in  his  beauty,  "  sitting  upon  a  throne,  high, 
and  lifted  up,"  and  his  train  filUng  the  temple,  he  heard 
from  the  voices  of  the  encompassing  Seraphim  the  triple 
ascription  of  praise,  "Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  Lord  God 
Almighty." 

And  this  Psalm  may  be  called  the  earthly  echo  of  that 
celestial  doxology.  For,  if  you  will  notice,  you  will  find 
that  it  is  divided  into  three  great  sections,  at  the  close  of 
each  of  which  it  comes  like  a  recurring  thunder  peal — 
''for  it  is  holy ; ''  ''for  He  is  holy ; "  ''for  the  Lord  our 
God  is  holy." 

And  these  three  sections,  which  thui  celebrate  the 
different  sides  of  the  Divine  nature,  and  climb  up  to  the 
one  climactic  thought — the  holiness  of  God, — stand  re- 
lated to  each  other  in  a  regular  progress  and  sequence. 
The  fiitt  of  them  magnifies  His  universal  domimoii»  M 


2o6  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT.  [SERM. 

sitting  between  the  Cherubim,  and  being  high  above  all 
people,  and  calls  for  praise  to  the  name  which  is  great 
and  terrible.  The  second  of  them  hymns  the  praises  of 
that  dominion  which  is  as  just  as  it  is  strong,  which 
establishes  equity  and  gives  ordinances  and  statutes  to 
Jacob.  And  the  third  of  them  sets  forth  the  close  relation 
of  love  and  fellowship  and  mutual  converse  which  is 
possible  between  sinful  men  and  this  mighty  God.  "They 
call  upon  the  Lord,  and  he  answers  them  :  he  speaks  to 
them  in  the  cloudy  pillar;  they  keep  his  testimonies." 
"Thou  wast  a  God  that  forgavest  them,  though  thou 
tookest  vengeance  of  their  inventions." 

And  on  this  loftiest  of  all  the  thoughts — that  God  talks 
with  men  and  listens  to  them,  that  He  gives  them  His 
mind  and  will,  and  strengthens  them  to  keep  it,  that  He 
smites  them  in  order  that  they  may  be  good,  and  pardons 
them  even  whilst  He  smites,  there  is  piled  a  third  call  for 
praise :  "  Exalt  the  Lord  our  God,  and  worship  at  his 
holy  hill ;  for  the  Lord  our  God  is  holy." 

Two  other  remarks  must  be  made  by  way  of  introduc- 
tion. "Thou  wast  a  God  that  forgavest  them,  though 
thou  tookest  vengeance  on  their  inventions."  That 
implies  that  God's  pardon  and  God's  retribution  are 
either  really  or  apparently  so  far  opposite — if  I  may  so 
say — or  at  least  unlike  to  each  other,  as  to  make  it 
remarkable  that  they  should  be  joined  together.  That  is 
the  ordinary  notion  of  their  mutual  relations  that  people 
have.  They  think  that  God's  pardon  comes  from  His 
love,  and  God's  penalties  come  from  His  judgment, 
and  that  the  two  never  coincide  and  fall  on  the  same 


XIV.]  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT,  207 

head,  but  that  they  have  a  double  source,  and  a  double 

object 

Now,  a  very  great  and  grave  mistake  about  the  whole 
relations  of  forgiveness  and  retribution,  and  about  the 
whole  character  of  that  Divine  nature  from  which  they 
both  flow,  is  implied  and  concentrated,  as  it  were,  in  that 
little  word  "  though."  It  is  no  part  of  the  original  Psalm, 
and  the  rendering  is  a  case  of  interpretation,  rather  than 
of  translation.  What  the  Psalm  says  is  this :  "  Thou 
wast  a  God  that  forgavest  them,  and  thou  tookest  ven- 
geance of  their  inventions."  If  anybody  choose  to  say 
that  the  vague  Hebrew  copula  must  necessarily  stand  here 
for  "though,"  that  is  another  thing.  What  the  Psalin 
says  is,  Thou  didst  this  and  Thou  didst  that.  The  two 
are,  as  it  were,  in  one  length  ;  they  run  into  each  other. 
They  are  continuous  parts  of  one  process.  They  both 
come  from  the  same  root.  There  is  no  apparent  antag- 
onism here  even  hinted  at  between  pardon  and  retribution, 
forgiveness  and  punishment,  but  they  are  both  regarded 
as  parts  of  one  great  whole,  and  as  flowing  from  the  holy 
love  of  God,  which  the  whole  Psalm  celebrates. 

Then,  one  more  observation  will  clear  the  ground 
sufficiently  for  what  I  have  to  say.  Making  this  altera- 
tion, there  still  remains  a  word  in  the  verse  at  which  some 
people  may  stumble,  "  Thou  tookest  vengeance  of  their 
inventions." 

"  Vengeance  ! "  Well,  it  is  scarcely  worth  while  saying, 
and  yet  it  may  be  as  well  to  say,  that  the  modem  notion 
attached  to  revenge  is  by  no  means  to  be  found  in  the 
word  which  is  here  employed.     Our  notion  of  vengeance 


2o8  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT.  [SERM. 

is  harm,  or  loss,  or  pain  of  some  sort  inflicted  at  the 
bidding  of  private  and  passionate  resentment  and  hate,  in 
opposition  to  the  calm  and  unhating  course  of  public 
justice.  We  set  up  "the  wild  justice  of  revenge,"  as  the 
phrase  goes,  against  the  course  of  sovereign  and  authori- 
tative retribution  and  punitive  action.  But  what  the  Old 
Testament  meant  by  vengeance  is  precisely  that  public 
justice  to  which  the  modem  notion  of  revenge  is  diame- 
trically opposed.  And  what  this  verse  says  is,  "  Thou 
wast  a  God  that  didst  forgive,"  and  in  the  very  act  of  for- 
giving, moved  by  no  personal  animosity,  moved  by  no 
passionate  resentment,  but  in  the  calm  sovereign  righteous 
process  of  that  law,  which  is  only  the  manifestation  and 
the  form  of  expression  of  Thine  infinite  love,  didst  at  one 
and  the  same  time  forgive  the  man,  and  smite  and  punish 
him  because  of  his  evil. 

The  truths  that  lie  in  the  whole  are  these :  pardon 
and  retribution  are  ever  united;  they  spring  from  one 
source  of  holy  love,  and  they  ought  to  become  to  us 
the  occasions  of  solemn  and  thankfiil  praise.  "  Exalt 
the  Lord  oiu-  God  ...  for  He  is  Holy.*'  Thou  for- 
gavest  them,  and  didst  punish  their  inventions. 

These  truths,  of  prime  importance  as  they  are,  are  but 
partially  apprehended  by  many  of  us,  and  may  well  be- 
come the  subject  of  a  few  remarks  now.  If  we  think  of 
the  connection  of  our  text,  as  thus  explained,  it  seems  to 
involve  these  ideas — that  forgiveness  is  essentially  the 
unhindered  communication  of  the  Divine  Love  to  smful 
men ;  that  being  so,  it  necessarily  involves  the  removal  of 
the  real  penalty  of  Sin ;  that  there  are,  however,  other 


XIV.]  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT.  209 

consequences — punitive  consequences  of  sin — which  God 
loN'es  us  too  well  to  remove  when  He  pardons ;  and  that 
these  consequences,  not  removed  by  forgiveness,  are  so 
modified  by  it  as  to  be  turned  into  tokens  of  His  loving 
discipline,  to  be  received  with  thankfulness  and  celebrated 
with  praise. 

1.  Notice,  then,  that  Forgiveness  is^  at  bottom^  the  undis- 
turbed communication  0/  the  Love  of  God  to  si7ijul  men. 

We  are  far  too  apt  to  think  that  God  pardons  men  in 
tlie  fashion  in  which  the  sovereign  pardons  a  culprit  who 
has  been  sentenced  to  be  hanged.  Such  pardon  implies 
nothing  as  to  die  feelings  of  either  the  criminal  or  the 
monarch.  There  need  neither  be  pity  on  the  one  side 
nor  penitence  on  the  other.  Such  inadequate  notions  of 
the  Divine  forgiveness  arise,  among  other  reasons,  because 
so  many  of  us  have  false  notions  of  the  true  punishment 
of  sin.  People  think  that  the  worst  consequences  of  a 
man's  sin  are  some  external  consequences  which  can  be 
done  away  by  sovereignty,  by  the  bare  expression  of  a 
sovereign  will ;  which  need  to  be  inflictedy  and  may  there- 
fore, be  removed.  The  worst  consequences  of  sin,  as  I 
shall  presently  have  to  show,  do  not  need  to  be  inflicted. 
They  come  automatically,  by  themselves,  with  the  cer- 
tainty of  fate. 

And  still  further,  the  true  idea  of  forgiveness  is  to  be 
found,  not  in  the  region  of  law  only,  but  in  the  region  of 
love  and  Fatherhood.  The  forgiveness  of  God  is  over 
and  over  again  set  forth  in  Scripture  as  being — a  father's 
forgiveness.  However  we  may  illustrate  it  from  the 
analogy  of  legal  pardon,  it  is  v/orth  noticing  that  it  is  the 

1 


2  10  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT.  [SERM. 

other  analogy — the  paternal  one,  which  the  Bible  expresses. 
Indeed,  I  do  not  remember  that  we  ever  read  of  the 
pardon  of  our  Judge  or  of  our  King,  but  we  read  "  Your 
heavenly  Father  will  forgive  you  your  trespasses."  And 
while  I  do  not  mean  to  say  that  the  blessed  assurance  of 
remission  of  penalty  is  not  in  the  idea,  still  it  seems  to 
me  to  be  in  harmony  with  these  distinct  statements  to 
look  deeper — even  to  the  removal  of  all  hindrances  to 
the  outflow  of  our  Heavenly  Father's  love,  and  to  the 
actual  communication  of  that  love,  as  being  the  very  heart 
of  His  forgiveness  of  us. 

"  Our  father  forgives  us."  Let  us  keep  fast  by  that. 
And  then,  let  us  remember  our  own  childhood,  our 
children,  if  we  have  any,  and  how  we  do  with  them. 
What  makes  the  little  face  fall,  and  the  tears  come  to  the 
eyes  ?  Is  it  your  taking  down  the  rod  from  behind  the 
door,  or  the  grave  disapprobation  in  your  face,  and  the 
trouble  and  rebuke  in  your  eyes?  It  is  not  only  the 
buffet  from  the  father's  hand  that  makes  the  punishment, 
but  still  more  the  disturbance  and  the  displeasure  of  the 
father's  heart  that  makes  the  child's  punishment.  And 
forgiveness  is  not  complete  when  the  father  says,  "  Well, 
go  away,  I  will  not  hurt  you,"  but  when  he  says,  "  Well, 
come,  I  am  not  angry  with  you,  and  I  love  you  still." 
Not  putting  up  the  rod,  but  taking  your  child  to  your 
heart  is  your  forgiveness.  So  long  as  the  faintest  trace  of 
disturbance  of  the  father's  love  by  pain  or  disapprobation 
remains,  so  long  as  one  fragment  of  the  fault  stands  like 
the  broken  timbers  of  a  dam  to  block  tlie  stream,  so 
long  the  child  is  not  pardoned.     He  is  forgiven  when  the 


XIV.]  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT.  211 

last  thin  film  of  mist  between  him  and  his  father  has 
faded  away.  And  the  Heavenly  Father  seals  His  pardon 
to  us  when  he  declares,  "  I  have  blotted  out,  as  a  cloud, 
thy  sins." 

I'he  blessing  of  forgiveness  is  not  fully  comprehended 
when  it  is  thought  of  as  shutting  up  some  outward  hell 
or  the  quenching  of  its  flames.  It  goes  much  deeper 
than  this,  and  means  the  untroubled  communion  of  love 
and  delight  between  the  reconciled  father  and  the  repent- 
ant child. 

Surely,  though  we  do  not  take  that  Divine  parable  of 
the  prodigal  son  as  containing  the  whole  statement  of  the 
method  of  forgiveness,  we  have  a  right  to  take  it  as  con- 
taining the  most  pathetic  and  the  truest  statement  of  the 
contents  of  forgiveness.  And  what  were  these  ?  It  was 
something  to  have  the  fatted  calf,  and  the  shoes  on  the 
feet,  and  the  rings  on  the  finger,  and  the  lighted  house, 
and  the  music  and  the  dancing ;  but  the  pardon  had  been 
passed  and  sealed  long  before  that  "And  when  he 
came  he  had  compassion  on  him,  and  fell  on  his  neck 
and  kissed  him." 

The  slave  may  dread  the  rod,  but  the  child  dreads  the 
father's  closed  heart  And  pardon  is  the  open  heart  of 
God,  full  of  love,  unaverted  by  any  consequences  of  my 
sin,  unclosed  by  any  of  my  departure  from  Him. 
"Thou  wilt  cast  all  my  sins  behind  thy  back  into  the 
depths  of  the  sea." 

The  same  deep  conception  of  the  nature  of  forgiveness 
is  implied  in  the  othe^r  words  of  our  Lord,  where  He 
makes  our  pardon  of  our  fellows  a  condition  of  God's 


21 «  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT.  [SKRM. 

pardon  of  us,  and  speaks  of  that  human  forgiveness, 
which  is  at  once  the  shadow  and  the  condition  of  the 
Divine,  as  being  our  forgiving  of  our  brethren  from  our 
hearts — a  phrase  which  plainly  implies  that  it  is  an 
alteration  of  mind,  not  merely  of  conduct  to  the  tres- 
passing brother  which  He  means.  Pardon  is  but 
apparent  unless  the  crime  be  swept  out  of  oiu*  thoughts 
and  hearts  altogether — and  no  more  suffered  to  influence 
either  our  deeds  or  our  feelings.  All  true  forgiveness 
forgets  the  guilt  which  it  pardons.  So,  that  wretched 
excuse  for  perennial  malice  which  you  often  hear  on 
people's  lips,  "  I  may  forgive  but  I  cannot  forget,'*  is 
a  false  distinction.  The  sin  that  is  remembered  is  not 
forgiven.  The  sin  that  is  pardoned  is  forgotten,  and 
the  forgetting  is  the  ceasing  to  regard  it  as  determin- 
ing the  relation  between  man  and  God.  Notwithstanding 
the  black  barrier  which  we  have  flung  across  the  stream 
by  our  sin,  the  pure  and  deep  flood  of  the  love  of  God 
shall  rise  and  surge  over  the  impediment,  and  fill  our 
souls. 

II.  But  still  fiirther,  this  being  so,  let  me  remind  yoa 
that  Stuh  pardon  does  necessarily  sweep  away  the  one  true 
penalty  of  sin,  I  have  been  maintaining  that  the  proper 
notion  of  pardon  is  not  the  removal  of  penalty,  and 
that  is  absolutely  true  if  you  think  of  penalty  only  as 
being  external  and  arbitrarily  inflicted.  But  it  is  not 
true  when  we  come  into  the  spiritual  region. 

You  may  say  to  me  you  have  been  talking  about 
parental  forgiveness,  do  not  you  remember  that  there  is 
another  class  of  metaphors  by  which  God  is  set  forth 


XIV.]  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT.  213 

in  Scripture  in  His  relations  to  man — that  of  king  and 
sovereign  ? 

Yes,  I  remember;  and  I  am  not  going  to  reply  — 
what  I  think  people  have  no  business  to  say,  though 
it  is  a  common  statement  nowadays — that  the  parental 
relation  is  deeper  than  the  rectoral.  I  do  not  see  that. 
I  believe  that  the  one  and  the  other  in  the  same  sense 
are  metaphors,  and  in  the  same  sense  are  realities. 
We  are  not  to  go  picking  and  choosing  among  the 
relations  which  God  bears  to  men,  and  say  one  is 
more  fundamental  than  the  other.  My  Father  is  my 
King  and  my  King  is  my  Father,  and  I  cannot  see 
that  we  have  any  right  to  say — the  one  statement  is  a 
reality  in  a  profounder  fashion  than  the  other.  Both 
are  the  hallowing  of  earthly  relations  to  the  adumbra- 
tion of  the  heavenly,  which  are  still  more  real  and 
sacred  than  the  earthly. 

Giving,  then,  full  weight  to  the  kinghood  of  our 
Heavenly  Father  as  a  reality,  even  as  the  fatherhood 
is,  does  that  conflict  with  what  we  have  been  saying 
about  pardon?  Surely  not  A  king's  forgiveness 
assuredly  includes  the  remission  of  penalty ;  and  God's 
forgiveness,  because  it  is  a  Father's,  includes  the  remis- 
sion of  penalty. 

What  is  the  penalty  of  sin  ?  "  The  wages  of  sin 
is  death."  What  is  "  death."  The  wrenching  away  of 
a  dependent  soul  from  God.  How  is  that  penalty 
ended  ?  When  the  soul  is  united  to  God  in  the  three- 
fold bond  of  trust,  love,  and  obedience.  The  communi- 
cation of  the  love  is  the  barring  of  the  hell.      And  if 


214  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT.  [SERM. 

it  were  not  for  that  wretched  vulgarizing  of  all  the 
ideas  connected  with  the  consequences  of  sin  which 
sensual-bound  natures  are  so  prone  to  fall  into,  it  would 
have  been  plain  to  men  that  the  one  true  penalty  of 
sin  is  to  be  torn  asunder  from  God  by  our  own  evil 
desires,  and  that,  therefore,  the  outflow  of  His  love  to 
us  sinners  is  really  the  cancelling  of  the  sorest  penalty 
and  true  wages  of  unrighteousness.  The  two  statements 
that  forgiveness  is  the  communication  of  the  love  of 
God  unhindered  by  man's  sin,  and  that  forgiveness  is 
the  removal  of  the  punishment  of  sin,  are  really  but 
two  ways  of  saying  the  same  thing. 

If  we  rightly  understand  what  is  the  death  of  death, 
what  is  the  consequence  of  transgression,  how  it  comes, 
and  in  what  sense  it  is  that  every  man,  by  every  sinful 
act,  carries  a  coal  to  the  hell-fire  that  may  have  to  con- 
sume him  ;  if  we  understand  that  the  real  misery  and 
punishment  is  what  the  old  Prophet  proclaimed  it  to  be 
— "  Your  sins  have  separated  between  you  and  your  God," 
then  we  shall  understand  how  the  two  representations 
coincide  and  flow  together,  and  how  the  real  penalty 
passes  away  where  the  love  is  welcomed  and  received. 

III.  Then  there  comes  a  third  thought,  viz.,  the  one 
which  is  most  prominently  expressed  in  the  text,  that 
the  pardoning  mercy  of  God  leaves  many  penalties  unre- 
moved. 

"  Thou  forgavest  them,  and  thou  tookest  vengeance  of 
their  inventions."  Forgiveness  and  punishment  both 
come  from  the  same  source,  and  generally  go  together. 
As  I  said  at  the  beginning  of  these  remarks,  people  fanqr 


XIV.]  FARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT,  215 

that  the  fountain  of  living  waters  pours  out  "sweet  waters 
and  bitter."  They  are  apt  to  think  of  that  Divine  mind 
as  acting,  like  ours,  from  impulses  which  are  each  partial. 
They  think  that  forgiveness  comes  from  love,  and  from 
righteousness  flows  retribution  and  chastisement.  It  is 
not  so.  They  are  both  parts  of  one  process,  they  both 
come  from  one  source,  the  one  heart  which  is  all  holiness 
and  all  love. 

And  then,  let  me  remind  you  of  historical  illustrations 
that  may  lielp  to  bring  this  idea  out  a  little  more  clearly. 

Remember  the  men  of  whom  the  Psalm  speaks, 
"  Moses  and  Aaron  among  his  priests."  Well,  what  about 
these  men?  Do  you  remember  that  both  received 
penalties,  chastisements.  Each  died  because  of  his  sin 
the  one  upon  Hor  and  the  other  upon  Pisgah-  They 
were  sent  up  there  to  die  in  the  presence  only  of  the 
stars,  and  in  the  silence,  because  they  had  transgressed 
against  God.  Thou  forgavest  them,  and  yet  "Aaron 
shall  be  gathered  unto  his  people,  for  he  shall  not  enter 
into  the  land — because  ye  rebelled  against  my  word  at 
the  water  of  Meribah;"  and  to  Moses  he  said,  "Get  thee 
up  into  this  mountain — and  die  in  the  mount  whither 
thou  goest  up,  as  Aaron  thy  brother  died,  because  ye 
trespassed  against  me." 

And  remember  the  other  instance — the  classical  in- 
stance— for  this  whole  set  of  considerations:  "Nathan 
came  to  David  and  said,  Thou  art  the  man.  And  David 
said  unto  Nathan,  I  have  sinned  against  the  Lord.  And 
Nathan  said  unto  David,  The  Lord  also  hath  put  away 
thy  sin ;  thou  shalt  not  die.     Howbeit,  because  thou  hagt 


2l6  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT.  [SERM. 

given  by  this  deed  great  occasion  to  the  enemies  of  the 
Lord  to  blaspheme,  the  child  shall  surely  die." 

And  thus,  in  historical  instances,  in  the  lives  of  the 
foremost  men  of  old,  who  towered  up  like  mountain  peaks 
in  the  land  of  the  Past, — the  Psalmist  sees  the  illustra- 
tions of  his  principle,  and  recognizes  the  great  truth— 
"Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chasteneth,  and  scourgeth 
every  son  whom  he  receiveth."  "  Thou  forgavest  them, 
and  Thou  tookest  vengeance  of  their  inventions." 

My  friends,  the  old  statement,  "Whatsoever  a  man 
soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap,"  is  absolutely  true, 
universally  true.  The  Gospel  is  not  its  abrogation.  It 
modifies  it,  it  gives  it  a  new  aspect ;  in  some  respects  it 
gives  it  a  new  incidence ;  but  be  sure  of  this,  that  the 
harvest  has  to  be  gathered.  For  our  worst  sins  there  is 
plenteous  redemption.  My  sin  may  become  white  as 
snow,  and  pass  away  altogether,  in  as  far  as  it  has  power 
to  disturb  or  sadden  my  relation  to  God.  Yet  our  least 
sins  leave  in  our  lives,  in  our  characters,  in  our  memories, 
in  our  consciences,  sometimes  in  our  weakness,  often  in 
our  worldly  position,  in  our  reputation,  in  our  success,  in 
our  health,  in  a  thousand  other  ways, — leave  their  traces 
and  consequences.  God  will  not  put  out  His  little  finger 
to  remove  these,  but  lets  them  stop. 

Let  no  man  fancy,  then,  that  the  Gospel  which  pro- 
claims forgiveness  can  be  vulgarized  into  a  mere  proclama- 
tion of  impunity.  Not  so.  It  was  to  Christian  men  that 
Paul  said,  "  Be  not  deceived,  God  is  not  mocked  ;  what- 
soever a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap."  God 
loves  us  too  well,  not  to  punish  His  children  when  they 


XIV.]  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT.  ai? 

sin,  and  He  loves  us  too  well  to  annihilate,  were  it 
possible,  the  secoTidary  consequences  of  our  transgressions. 
The  two  sides  of  the  one  truth  must  both  be  recognized 
— that  the  deepest  and,  as  we  may  call  them,  the  primary^ 
penalties  of  our  evil,  which  are  separation  from  God  and 
the  painful  consciousness  of  guilt,  are  swept  away ;  and, 
also,  that  other  results  are  allowed  to  remain,  which,  being 
allowed,  may  be  blessed  and  salutary  for  the  transgressors. 

If  you  waste  your  youth,  no  repentance  will  send  the 
shadow  back  upon  the  dial,  or  recover  the  ground  lost 
by  idleness,  or  restore  the  constitution  shattered  by 
dissipation,  or  give  again  the  resources  wasted  upon  vice, 
or  bring  back  the  fleeting  opportunities.  If  you  forget 
God  and  live  without  Him  in  the  world,  fancying  that  it 
is  time  enough  to  become  "  religious "  when  you  "  have 
had  your  fling  " — even  were  you  to  come  back  at  last — 
and  remember  how  few  do — you  could  not  obliterate  the 
remembrance  of  misused  years,  nor  the  deep  marks  which 
they  had  left  upon  imagination  and  thought,  and  taste, 
and  habit  The  wounds  can  all  be  healed  indeed ;  for 
the  good  Physician,  blessed  be  His  name,  has  lancets 
and  bandages,  and  balm  and  anodynes  for  the  deadliest, 
but  scars  remain  even  when  the  gash  is  closed. 

There  is  an  aspect  in  which  it  is  true  that  the  very  great- 
ness of  the  previous  sin  may  become  the  occasion  for  the 
loftiest  devotion  and  the  lowliest  trust  in  a  pardoned 
man.  The  effects  .may  be  so  modified  as  to  contribute 
to  the  depth  and  power  of  his  Christian  character. 

But  even  when  the  grace  of  God  so  modifies  them, 
they  remain.     And  though  in  some  sense  it  be  true  tha# 


2l8  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT,  [SERM. 

Pardon  is  better  than  Innocence,  the  converse  is  true, 
that  Innocence  is  better  than  Pardon.  **  I  would  have 
you  simple  concerning  evil" — for  even  when  forgiven, 
it  leaves  on  character  and  memory  many  a  trace  of  weak- 
ness, many  a  painful  record. 

IV.  There  is  a  final  thought  on  which  a  word  may  be 
said,  that  Pardoning  Love  so  modifies  the  punishment  that 
it  becones  an  occasion  for  solemn  tha?tkfulness. 

The  outward  act  remaining  the  same,  its  whole  aspect 
to  us,  the  objects  of  it,  is  changed,  when  we  think  of  it 
as  flowing  from  the  same  love  which  pardons.  The 
stroke  has  now  ceased  to  be  a  mere  natural  result  of  our 
evil.  We  see  that  it  is  no  sign  of  anger,  but  of  love. 
Whatever  painful  consequences  of  past  sin  may  still  linger 
about  our  lives,  or  haunt  our  hearts,  we  may  be  sure  of 
two  things  about  them  all — that  they  come  from  Forgiving 
Mercy,  that  they  come  for  our  profit  It  is  no  rigid  im- 
personal law  which  is  smiting  us,  no  mere  natural  evolution 
of  results  which  blindly  and  impassively  inflicts  the  pain. 
It  is  no  harsh — no,  nor  even  only  a  righteous  Judge,  who 
deals  ^vith  us.  We  are  not  crushed  between  the  insensate 
wheels  of  a  dead  machine,  nor  smitten  by  the  blow  of  an 
inflexible  fate,  but  we  are  chastened  by  a  Father's  hand, 
who  loves  us  too  well  to  do  by  us  that  which  He  forbids  us 
to  do  by  one  another, — suffer  sin  upon  our  brother. 

"  When  we  are  judged,  we  are  chastened  of  the  Lord, 
that  we  should  not  be  condemned."  The  stroke  of  con- 
demnation will  never  fall  upon  our  pardoned  hearts. 
That  it  may  not,  the  loving  strokes  of  His  discipline  must 
needs  accompany  the  embrace  of  His  forgiveness. 


XIV.]  PARDON  WITH  PUNISHMENT,  219 

And  so  the  pains  change  their  character,  and  become 
things  to  be  desired,  to  be  humbly  welcomed,  to  be  pa- 
tiently borne  and  used,  and  even  to  be  woven  into  our 
hymns  of  praise.  If  we  rightly  understand  whence  they 
come,  and  what  they  intend,  we  shall  see  beneath  the 
dark  robes  of  these  veiled  messengers  of  His  love,  the 
bright  apparel  and  the  radiant  faces  of  the  angels  of  God 
sent  to  strengthen  us.  And  even  while  we  feel  the  smart 
of  the  scourge  and  the  tingle  of  the  rod,  we  shall  "  exalt 
the  Lord  our  God,"  and  set  this  on  the  summit  of  our 
thankful  songs,  "  Thou  art  a  God  that  forgivest  us,  and 
takest  vengeance  of  our  inventions." 

Brethren,  you  know  where  and  how  the  pardon  is  to 
be  found.  In  Christ  is  all  the  Divine  Forgiveness 
treasured.  "  The  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon 
him,  and  with  his  stripes  we  are  healed."  What  He  has 
borne  for  us,  we  have  not  to  bear.  His  sufferings,  His 
separation  in  His  hour  of  great  darkness  from  God, 
His  death,  have  once  and  for  ever  absorbed  the  true 
penalty  of  a  world's  sins.  Trust  in  Him,  and  there  is  no 
condemnation  for  you. 

And  remember  that  you  have  before  you  an  alternative 
— either  you  will  be  separated  from  your  sins  by  God's 
pardon  in  Christ  and  God's  chastisement  of  love;  07\ 
clutching  your  sins,  refusing  to  let  Him  cast  them  all 
away,  you  will  be  separated  by  them  utterly  from  God, 
and  so  fall  into  the  death  which  is  the  wages  and  real 
punishment  of  sin. 


220 


SERMON  XV. 

ETERNITY   IN   THE   HEART. 


EccLES.  iii,  II. 

He  hath  made  every  thing  beautiful  in  his  time :  also  he  hath  set 
the  world  in  their  heart 

nPHERE  is  considerable  difficulty  in  understanding 
^  what  precise  meaning  is  to  be  attached  to  these 
words,  and  what  precise  bearing  they  have  on  the  general 
course  of  the  writer's  thoughts;  but  one  or  two  things  are, 
at  any  rate,  quite  clear. 

The  Preacher  has  been  enumerating  all  the  various 
vicissitudes  of  prosperity  and  adversity,  of  construction 
and  destruction,  of  society  and  solitude,  of  love  and  hate, 
for  which  there  is  scope  and  verge  enough  in  one  short 
human  life ;  and  his  conclusion  is,  as  it  always  is  in  the 
earlier  part  of  this  book,  that  because  there  is  such  an 
endless  diversity  of  possible  occupation,  and  each  of 
them  lasts  but  for  a  little  time,  and  its  opposite  has  as 
good  a  right  of  existence  as  itself;  therefore,  perhaps,  it 
might  be  as  well  that  a  man  should  do  nothing  as  do  all 
these  opposite  things  which  neutralize  each  other,  and  the 
net  result  of  which  is  nothing.     If  there  be  a  time  to  be 


ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART  22' 

bom  and  a  time  to  die,  nonentity  would  be  the  same 
when  all  is  over.  If  there  be  a  time  to  plant  and  a  time 
to  pluck,  what  is  the  good  of  planting  ?  If  there  be  a 
time  for  love  and  a  time  for  hate,  why  cherish  affec- 
tions which  are  transient  and  may  be  succeeded  by  their 
opposites  ? 

And  then  another  current  of  thought  passes  through 
his  mind,  and  he  gets  another  glimpse  somewhat  different, 
and  says  in  effect,  "  No,  that  is  not  all  true — God  has 
made  all  these  different  changes,  and  although  each  of 
them  seems  contradictory  of  the  other,  in  its  o\vn  place 
and  at  its  own  time  each  is  beautiful  and  has  a  right  to 
exist"  The  contexture  of  life,  and  even  the  perplexities 
and  darknesses  of  human  society,  and  the  varieties  of 
earthly  condition — if  they  be  confined  within  their  own 
proper  limits,  and  regarded  as  parts  of  a  whole — they  are 
all  co-operant  to  an  end.  As  from  wheels  turning  differ- 
ent ways  in  some  great  complicated  machine,  and  yet 
fitting  by  their  cogs  into  one  another,  there  may  be  a 
resultant  direct  motion  produced  even  by  these  appar- 
ently antagonistic  forces. 

But  the  second  clause  of  our  text  adds  a  thought  which 
is  in  some  sense  contrasted  with  this. 

The  word  rendered  world  is  a  very  frequent  one  in  the 
Old  Testament,  and  has  never  but  one  meaning,  and  that 
meaning  is  eter?iity.  "  He  hath  set  eternity  in  their 
heart" 

Here  then  are  two  antagonistic  facts.  There  are  tran- 
sient things,  a  vicissitude  which  moves  within  natural 
limits,   temporary   events   which   are   beautiful   in   their 


222  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART,  [SERM. 

season.  But  there  is  also  the  contrasted  fact,  that  the 
man  who  is  thus  tossed  about,  as  by  some  great  battle- 
dore wielded  by  giant  powers  in  mockery,  from  one 
changing  thing  to  another,  has  relations  to  something 
more  lasting  than  the  transient  He  lives  in  a  world  of 
fleeting  change,  but  he  has  "  eternity "  in  "  his  heart" 
So  between  him  and  his  dwelling-place,  between  him  and 
his  occupations  there  is  a  gulf  of  disproportion.  He  is 
subjected  to  these  alternations,  and  yet  bears  within  him 
a  repressed  but  immortal  consciousness  that  he  belongs 
to  another  order  of  things,  which  knows  no  vicissitude  and 
fears  no  decay.  He  possesses  stifled  and  misinterpreted 
longings  which,  however  starved,  do  yet  survive,  after  un- 
changing Being  and  eternal  Rest  And  thus  endowed, 
and  by  contrast  thus  situated,  his  soul  is  full  of  the  "  blank 
misgiving  of  a  creature  moving  about  in  worlds  not 
reaHzed."  Out  of  these  two  facts — says  our  text — man's 
where  and  man's  what^  his  nature  and  his  position,  there 
rises  a  mist  of  perplexity  and  darkness  that  wraps  the 
whole  course  of  the  Divine  actions — unless,  indeed,  we 
have  reached  that  central  height  of  vision  above  the 
mists,  which  this  book  of  Ecclesiastes  puts  forth  at  last 
as  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter — "  Fear  God  and 
keep  his  commandments."  If  transitory  things  with  their 
multitudinous  and  successive  waves  toss  us  to  solid  safety 
on  the  Rock  of  Ages,  then  all  is  well,  and  many  mysteries 
will  be  clear.  But  if  not,  if  we  have  not  found,  or  rather 
followed,  the  one  God -given  way  of  harmonizing  these 
two  sets  of  experiences — life  in  the  Transient,  and 
longings  for  the  Eternal — then  their  antagonism  darkeni 


XV.]  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART.  223 

our  thoughts  of  a  wise  and  loving  Providence,  and  wt 
liave  lost  the  key  to  the  confused  riddle  which  the  world 
then  presents.  "  He  hath  made  every  thing  beautiful  in 
t-is  time  :  also  he  hath  set  eternity  in  their  heart,  so  that 
wo  man  can  find  out  the  work  that  God  maketh  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end." 

Such,  then,  being  a  partial  but,  perhaps,  not  entirely 
iimdequate  view  of  the  course  of  thought  in  the  words 
before  us,  I  may  now  proceed  to  expand  the  considera- 
tions thus  brought  under  our  notice  in  them.  These 
may  be  gathered  up  in  three  principal  ones — the  con- 
sciousness of  Eternity  in  every  heart ;  the  disproportion 
thence  resulting  between  this  nature  of  ours  and  the 
order  of  things  in  which  we  dwell ;  and,  finally,  the 
possible  satisfying  of  that  longing  in  men's  hearts — a 
possibility  not  indeed  refened  to  in  our  text,  but  un- 
veiled as  the  final  word  of  this  book  of  Ecclesiastes, 
and  made  clear  to  ui  in  Jesus  Christ 

I.  Consider  that  Eternity  set  in  every  human  heart. 

The  expression  is,  of  course,  somewhat  difficult,  even 
if  we  accept  generally  the  explanation  which  1  have 
given.  It  may  be  either  a  declaration  of  the  actual 
immortality  of  the  soul,  or  it  may  mean,  as  I  rather 
suppose  it  to  do,  the  consciousness  of  eternity  which  is 
part  of  human  nature. 

The  former  idea  is  no  doubt  closely  connected  with 
the  latter,  and  would  here  yield  an  appropriate  sense. 
We  should  then  have  the  contrast  between  man's  un- 
dying existence  and  the  transient  trifles  on  which  he  is 
tempted  to  fix  his  love  and  hopes.     We  belong  to  one 


^24  ETERNITY  IN   THE  HEART,  [SERM. 

set  of  existences  by  our  bodies,  and  to  another  by  our 
souls.  Though  we  are  parts  of  the  passing  material 
world,  yet  in  that  outward  frame  is  lodged  a  personality 
that  has  nothing  in  common  with  decay  and  death.  A 
spark  of  eternity  dw^ells  in  these  fleeting  frames.  The 
laws  of  physical  growth  and  accretion  and  maturity  and 
decay,  which  rule  over  all  things  material,  do  not  apply 
to  my  true  self  "  In  our  embers  is  something  that  doth 
live."  Whatsoever  befalls  the  hairs  that  get  grey  and 
thin,  and  the  hands  that  become  wiinkled  and  palsied, 
and  the  heart  that  is  worn  out  by  much  beating,  and  the 
blood  that  clogs  and  clots  at  last,  and  the  filmy  eye,  and 
all  the  corruptible  frame  ;  yet,  as  the  heathen  said,  "  1 
shall  not  all  die,"  but  deep  within  this  transient  clay- 
house,  that  must  crack  and  fall  and  be  resolved  into  the 
elements  out  of  which  it  was  built  up,  there  dwells  an 
immortal  guest,  an  undymg  personal  self  In  the  heart, 
the  irmiost  spiritual  being  of  every  man,  Eternity,  in  this 
sense  of  the  word,  does  dwell. 

"  Common-places,"  you  say.  Yes ;  common-places, 
which  word  means  two  things — truths  that  affect  us  all, 
and  also  truths  which,  because  they  are  so  universal  and 
so  entirely  believed,  are  ail  but  powerless.  Surely  it  is 
not  time  to  stop  preaching  such  truths  as  long  as  they 
are  forgotten  by  the  overwhelming  majority  of  the  people 
who  acknowledge  them.  Thank  God,  the  staple  of  the 
work  of  us  preachers  is  the  reiteration  of  common-places, 
which  His  goodness  has  made  familiar,  and  our  in- 
dolence and  sin  have  made  stale  and  powerless. 

My  brother,  you  would  be  a  wiser  man  if  instead  of 


Vr.]  ETERmTY  IN  THE  HEART,  225 

turning  the  edge  of  statements  which  you  know  to  be 
true,  and  which,  if  true,  are  infinitely  solemn  and  impor- 
tant, by  commonplace  sarcasm  about  pulpit  common- 
places, you  would  honestly  try  to  drive  the  familiar 
neglected  truth  home  to  your  mind  and  heart.  Strip  it 
of  its  generality  and  think — it  is  true  about  me.  I  live 
for  ever.  My  outward  life  will  cease,  and  my  dust  will 
return  to  dust — but  /  shall  last  undying.  And  ask 
yourselves — what  then?  Am  I  making  **  provision  for 
the  flesh,  to  fulfil  the  lusts  thereof,"  in  more  or  less 
refined  fashion,  and  forgetting  to  provide  for  that  which 
lives  for  evermore  ?  Eternity  is  in  my  heart.  What  a 
madness  it  is  to  go  on,  as  if  either  I  were  to  continue 
for  ever  among  the  shows  of  time,  or  when  I  leave  them 
all,  to  die  wholly  and  be  done  with  altogether! 

But,  probably,  the  other  interpretation  of  these  words 
is  the  truer.  The  doctrine  of  immortality  does  not  seem 
to  be  stated  in  this  book  of  Ecclesiastes,  except  in  one 
or  two  very  doubtful  expressions.  And  it  is  more  in 
accordance  with  its  whole  tone  to  suppose  the  preacher 
here  to  be  asserting,  not  that  the  heart  or  spirit  is  im- 
mortal, but  that,  whether  it  is  or  no,  in  the  heart  is 
planted  the  thought^  the  consciousness  of  eternity — and 
the  longing  after  it. 

Let  me  put  that  into  other  words.  We,  brethren,  are 
the  only  beings  on  this  earth,  who  can  think  the  thought, 
and  speak  the  word — eternity.  Other  creatures  are 
happy  while  immersed  in  time ;  we  have  another  nature, 
and  are  disturbed  by  a  thought  which  shines  high 
above  the  roaring  sea  of  circumstance  in  which  we  float. 
3 


226  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART,  [SERM. 

I  do  not  care  at  present  about  the  metaphysical 
puzzles  that  have  been  gathered  round  that  conception, 
nor  care  to  ask  whether  it  is  positive  or  negative, 
adequate  or  inadequate.  Enough  that  the  word  has  a 
meaning,  that  it  corresponds  to  a  thought  which  dwells 
in  men's  minds.  It  is  of  no  consequence  at  all  for  our 
purpose,  whether  it  is  a  positive  conception,  or  simply 
the  thinking  away  of  all  limitations.  "  I  know  what  God 
is,  when  you  do  not  ask  me."  I  know  what  eternity  is, 
though  I  cannot  define  the  word  to  satisfy  a  metaphysi- 
cian. The  little  child  taught  by  some  grandmother  Lois, 
in  a  cottage,  knows  what  she  means  when  she  tells  him 
"  you  will  live  for  ever,"  though  both  scholar  and  teacher 
would  be  puzzled  to  put  it  into  other  words.  \Vhen 
we  say  Eternity  flows  round  this  bank  and  shoal  of 
time,  men  know  what  we  mean.  Heart  answers  to 
heart ;  and  in  each  heart  lies  that  solemn  thought — ^for 
ever! 

Like  all  other  of  the  primal  thoughts  of  men's  souls,  it 
may  be  increased  in  force  and  clearness,  or  it  may  be 
neglected  and  opposed,  and  all  but  crushed.  The 
thought  of  God  is  natural  to  men,  the  thought  of  right 
and  wrong  is  natural  to  man — and  yet  there  may  be 
atheists  who  have  blinded  their  eyes,  and  there  may  be 
degraded  and  almost  animal  natures  who  have  seared 
their  consciences  and  call  sweet  bitter  and  evil  good 
Thus  men  may  so  plunge  themselves  into  the  present  as 
to  lose  the  consciousness  of  the  Eternal — as  a  man  swept 
over  Niagara,  blinded  by  the  spray,  and  deafened  by  the 
rush,  would  see  or  hear  nothing  outside  the  green  walls 


XV.]  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART,  227 

of  the  death  that  encompassed  him.  And  yet  the  blue 
sky  with  its  peaceful  spaces  stretches  above  the  hell  of 
waters ! 

So  the  thought  is  in  us  all — a  presentiment  and  a  con- 
sciousness :  and  that  universal  presentiment  itself  goes 
far  to  establish  the  reality  of  the  unseen  order  of  things 
to  which  it  is  directed.  The  great  planet  that  moves  on 
the  outmost  circle  of  our  system  was  discovered  because 
that  next  it  wavered  in  its  course  in  a  fashion  which  was 
inexplicable,  unless  some  unknown  mass  was  attracting  it 
from  across  millions  of  miles  of  darkling  space.  And 
there  are  "  perturbations  "  in  our  spirits  which  cannot  be 
understood,  unless  from  them  we  may  divine  that  far  off 
and  unseen  world,  that  has  power  from  afar  to  sway  in 
their  orbits  the  little  lives  of  mortal  men.  It  draws  us  to 
itself — but,  alas,  the  attraction  may  be  resisted  and 
thwarted.  The  dead  mass  of  the  planet  bends  to  the 
drawing,  but  we  can  repel  the  constraint  which  the 
eternal  world  would  exercise  upon  us — and  so  that 
consciousness  which  ought  to  be  our  nobleness,  as  it  is 
our  prerogative,  may  become  our  shame,  our  misery, 
and  our  sin. 

That  Eternity  which  is  set  in  our  hearts  is  not  merely 
the  thought  of  ever-during  Being,  or  of  an  everlasting 
order  of  things  to  which  we  are  in  some  way  related. 
But  there  are  connected  with  it  other  ideas  besides  those 
of  mere  duration.  Men  know  what  perfection  means. 
They  understand  the  meaning  of  perfect  goodness ;  they 
have  the  notion  of  infinite  wisdom  and  boundless  Love. 
These  thoughts  are  the  material  of  all  poetry,  the  thread 


22S  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART,  [SERM. 

from  which  the  Imagination  creates  all  her  wondrous 

tapestries.  This  "capacity  for  the  Infinite,"  as  people 
call  it — which  is  only  a  fine  way  of  putting  the  same 
thought  as  that  in  our  text — ^which  is  the  prerogative  of 
human  spirits,  is  likewise  the  curse  of  many  spirits.  By 
their  misuse  of  it  they  make  it  a  fatal  gift,  and  turn  it  into 
an  unsatisfied  desire  which  gnaws  their  souls,  a  famished 
yearning  which  "roars,  and  suffers  hunger."  Knowing 
what  perfection  is,  they  turn  to  limited  natures  and 
created  hearts  for  their  rest.  Having  the  haunting 
thought  of  an  absolute  goodness,  a  perfect  wisdom,  an 
endless  Love,  an  eternal  life — they  try  to  find  the  being 
that  corresponds  to  their  thought  here  on  earth,  and  so 
they  are  plagued  with  endless  disappointment. 

My  brother,  God  has  put  eternity  in  your  heart  Not 
only  will  you  live  for  ever,  but  also  in  your  present  life 
you  have  a  consciousness  of  that  eternal  and  infinite  and 
all-sufficient  Being  that  lives  above.  You  have  need  of 
Him,  and,  whether  you  know  it  or  not,  the  tendrils  of 
your  spirits,  like  some  climbing  plant,  not  fostered  by  a 
careful  hand  but  growing  wild,  are  feeling  out  into  the 
vacancy  in  order  to  grasp  the  stay  which  they  need  for 
their  fruitage  and  their  strength. 

By  the  make  of  our  spirits,  by  the  possibilities  that 
dawn  dim  before  us,  by  the  thoughts  "  whose  very  sweet- 
ness yieldeth  proof  that  they  were  bom  for  immortality," 
— ^by  all  these  and  a  thousand  other  signs  and  facts  in 
every  human  life  we  say,  "  God  has  set  eternity  in  their 
hearts ! " 

II.  And  then  turn  to  the  second  idea  that  is  here. 


XV.]  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART  229 

The  disproportion  between  this  our  nature,  and  the  world 
in  which  we  dwelL 

The  writer  of  this  book  (whether  Solomon  or  no  we 
need  not  stay  to  discuss)  looks  out  upon  the  world;  and, 
in  accordance  with  the  prevailing  tone  of  all  the  earlier 
parts  of  his  contemplations,  finds  in  this  prerogative  ol 
man  but  another  reason  for  sajring,  "All  is  vanity  and 
vexation  of  spirit." 

Two  facts  meet  him  antagonistic  to  one  another,  the 
place  that  man  occupies  and  the  nature  that  man  bears. 
This  creature  with  eternity  in  his  heart  where  is  he  set  ? 
what  has  he  got  to  work  upon  ?  what  has  he  to  love  and 
hold  by,  to  trust  to,  and  anchor  his  life  on  ?  A  crowd  of 
things,  each  well  enough,  but  each  having  a  time — and 
though  they  be  beautiful  in  their  time,  yet  fading  and 
vanishing  when  it  has  elapsed.  No  multiplication  of 
times  will  make  eternity.  And  so  with  that  thought  in  his 
heart,  man  is  driven  out  among  objects  perfectly  insuffi- 
cient to  meet  it 

Christ  said,  "  Foxes  have  holes,  and  birds  of  the  air 
have  nests,  but  the  Son  of  man  hath  not  where  to  lay  his 
head  " — and  while  the  words  have  their  proper  and  most 
pathetic  meaning,  in  the  history  of  His  own  earthly  life  of 
travail  and  toil  for  our  sakes,  we  may  also  venture  to 
give  them  the  further  appUcation,  that  all  the  lower 
creatures  are  at  rest  here,  and  that  the  more  truly  a  man 
is  man,  the  less  can  he  find,  among  all  the  shadows  of  the 
present,  a  pillow  for  his  head,  a  place  of  repose  for  his 
heart  The  animal  nature  is  at  home  in  the  material 
world,  the  hnman  nature  is  not 


230  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART.  [SERM. 

Every  other  creature  presents  the  most  accurate  corres- 
pondence between  nature  and  circumstances,  powers  and 
occupations.  Man  alone  is  like  some  poor  land-bird 
blown  out  to  sea,  and  floating  half-drowned  with  clinging 
plumage  on  an  ocean  where  the  dove  "  finds  no  rest  for 
the  sole  of  her  foot,"  or  like  some  creature  that  loves  to 
glance  in  the  sunlight,  but  is  plunged  into  the  deepest 
recesses  of  a  dark  mine.  In  the  midst  of  a  universe 
marked  by  the  nicest  adaptations  of  creatures  to  their 
habitation,  man  alone,  the  head  of  them  all,  presents  the 
unheard-of  anomaly  that  he  is  surrounded  by  conditions 
which  do  not  fit  his  whole  nature,  which  are  not  adequate 
for  all  his  powers,  on  which  he  cannot  feed  and  nurture 
his  whole  being.  "To  what  purpose  is  this  waste?" 
"  Hast  thou  made  all  men  in  vain  ?" 

Everything  is  "beautiful  in  its  time."  Yes,  and  for 
that  very  reason,  as  this  book  of  Ecclesiastes  says  in 
another  verse,  "  Because  to  every  purpose  there  is  time 
and  judgment,  therefore  the  misery  of  man  is  great  upon 
him."  It  was  happy  when  we  loved;  but  the  day  of 
indifference  and  alienation  and  separation  comes.  Our 
spirits  were  glad  when  we  were  planting;  but  the  time 
for  plucking  up  that  which  was  planted  is  sure  to  draw 
near.  It  was  blessed  to  pour  out  our  souls  in  the 
effluence  of  love,  or  in  the  fulness  of  thought,  and  the 
time  to  speak  was  joyous ;  but  the  dark  day  of  silence 
comes  on.  When  we  twined  hearts  and  clasped  hands 
together  it  was  glad,  and  the  time  when  we  embraced 
was  blessed ;  but  the  time  to  refrain  from  embracing  is 
as  sure  to  draw  near.      It  is  good  for  the  eyes  to  behold 


XV.]  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART,  231 

the  sun,  but  so  certainly  as  it  rolls  to  its  bed  in  the  west, 
and  "leaves  the  world  to  darkness"  and  to  us,  do  all 
earthly  occupations  wane  and  fade,  and  all  possessions 
shrivel  and  dwindle,  and  all  associations  snap  and  drop 
and  end,  and  the  whirligig  of  time  works  round  and 
takes  away  everything  which  it  once  brought  us. 

And  so,  man  with  eternity  in  his  heart,  with  the  hunger 
in  his  spirit  after  an  unchanging  whole,  an  absolute  good, 
an  ideal  perfectness,  an  immortal  being — is  condemned 
to  the  tread-mill  of  transitory  revolution.  Nothing  con- 
tinueth  in  one  stay,  "For  all  that  is  in  the  world,  the 
lust  of  the  flesh,  and  the  lust  of  the  eyes,  and  the  pride 
of  life,  is  not  of  the  Father,  but  is  of  the  world.  And  the 
world  passeth  away,  and  the  lust  thereof."  It  is  limited, 
it  is  changeful,  it  slips  from  under  us  as  we  stand  upon  it, 
and,  therefore,  mystery  and  perplexity  stoop  down  upon 
the  providence  of  God,  and  misery  and  loneliness  enter 
into  the  heart  of  man.  These  changeful  things,  they  do 
not  meet  our  ideal,  they  do  not  satisfy  our  wants,  they 
do  not  last  even  our  duration. 

"  The  misery  of  the  man  is  great  upon  him,"  said  the 
text  quoted  a  moment  ago.  And  is  it  not?  Is  this 
present  life  enough  for  you  ?  Sometimes  you  fancy  it  is. 
Many  of  us  habitually  act  on  the  understanding  that  it  is, 
and  treat  all  that  I  have  been  saying  about  the  dispro- 
portion between  our  nature  and  our  circumstances  as  not 
true  about  them.  "  This  world  not  enough  for  me!"  you 
say — "  yes  !  it  is  ;  only  let  me  get  a  Httle  more  of  it,  an(' 
keep  what  I  get,  and  I  shall  be  all  right."  So  then  — "  y 
little  more  "  is  wanted,  is  it  ?     And  that    "  little  more  ' 


232  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART,  [SERM. 

will  alwajrs  be  wanted,  and  besides  it,  the  guarantee  of 
permanence  will  always  be  wanted,  and  failing  these,  there 
will  ever  be  a  hunger  that  nothing  can  fill  which  belongs 
to  earth.  Do  you  remember  the  bitter  experience  of  the 
poor  prodigal,  "  he  would  fain  have  filled  his  belly  with 
the  husks?"  He  tried  his  best  to  live  upon  the  homy 
innutritions  pods,  but  he  could  not ;  and  after  them,  he 
still  was  "  perishing  with  himger."  So  it  is  with  us  all 
when  we  try  to  fill  the  soul  and  satisfy  the  spirit  with 
earth  or  aught  that  holds  of  it  It  is  as  impossible  to 
still  the  hunger  of  the  heart  with  that,  as  to  stay  the 
hunger  of  the  body  with  wise  sayings  or  noble  senti- 
ments. 

I  appeal  to  your  real  selves,  to  your  own  past  ex- 
perience. Is  it  not  true  that,  deep  below  the  surface 
contentment  with  the  world  and  the  things  of  the  world, 
a  dormant,  but  lightly  slumbering  sense  of  want  and 
unsatisfied  need  lies  in  your  souls  ?  Is  it  not  true  that  it 
wakes  sometimes  at  a  touch  ;  that  the  tender  dying  light 
of  sunset,  or  the  calm  abysses  of  the  mighty  heavens,  or 
some  strain  of  music,  or  a  line  in  a  book,  or  a  sorrow  in 
yoiu:  heart,  or  the  solemnity  of  a  great  joy,  or  close  con- 
tact with  sickness  and  death,  or  the  more  direct  appeals 
of  Scripture  and  of  Christ,  stir  a  wistfiil  yearning  and  a 
painful  sense  of  emptiness  in  your  hearts,  and  of  in- 
sufficiency in  all  the  ordinary  pursuits  of  your  lives  ?  It 
cannot  but  be  so :  for  though  it  be  true  that  our  natures 
are  in  some  measures  subdued  to  what  we  work  in,  and 
although  it  is  possible  to  atrophy  the  deepest  parts  of 
our  being  by  long  neglect  or  staivatioo»  yet  you  will 


TV.]  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART.  233 

never  do  that  so  thoroughly  but  that  the  deep-seated 
longing  will  break  forth  at  intervals,  and  the  cry  of  its 
hunger  echo  through  the  soul.  Many  of  us  do  our  best 
to  silence  it.  But  I,  for  my  part,  believe,  that  however 
you  have  crushed  and  hardened  your  souls  by  indiffer- 
ence, by  ambition,  by  worldly  cares,  by  frivolous  or 
coarse  pleasures,  or  by  any  of  the  thousand  other  ways 
in  which  you  can  do  it — yet,  there  is  some  response 
in  your  truest  self  to  my  poor  words  when  I  declare 
that  a  soul  without  God  is  an  empty  and  an  aching 
soul! 

These  things  which,  even  in  their  time  of  beauty,  are 
not  enough  for  a  man's  soul — have  all  but  a  time  to  be 
beautiful  in,  and  then  they  fade  and  die.  A  great 
botanist  made  what  he  called  "  a  floral  clock  "  to  mark 
the  hours  of  the  day  by  the  opening  and  closing  of 
flowers.  It  was  a  graceful  and  yet  a  pathetic  thought. 
One  after  another  they  spread  their  petals,  and  their 
varying  colours  glow  in  the  light.  But  onq  after  another 
they  wearily  shut  their  cups,  and  the  night  falls,  and  the 
latest  of  them  folds  itself  together,  and  all  are  hidden 
away  in  the  dark.  So  our  joys  and  treasures,  were  they 
sufficient  did  they  last,  cannot  last.  After  a  summer's 
day  comes  a  summer's  night,  and  after  a  brief  space  of 
them  comes  winter,  when  all  are  killed  and  the  leafless 
trees  stand  silent, 

**  Bare  ruined  choirs,  where  late  the  sweet  birds  sang.** 

We  cleave  to  these  temporal  possessions  and  joys, 
and  the  natural  law  of  change  sweeps  them  away  from 
us  one  by  one.     Most  of  them  do  not  last  so  long  as 


234  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART  [SERM. 

we  do,  and  they  pain  us  when  they  pass  away  from  us. 
Some  of  them  last  longer  than  we  do,  and  ihey  pain  us 
when  we  pass  away  from  them.  Either  way  our  hold 
of  them  is  a  transient  hold,  and  one  knows  not  whether 
is  the  sadder — the  bare  garden  beds  where  all  have  done 
blowing,  and  nothing  remains  but  a  tangle  of  decay,  or 
the  blooming  beauty  from  which  a  man  is  summoned 
away,  leaving  others  to  reap  what  he  has  sown.  Tragic 
enough  are  both  at  the  best — and  certain  to  befall  us  all. 
We  live  and  they  fade;  we  die  and  they  remain.  We 
live  again  and  they  are  far  away.  The  facts  are  so.  We 
may  make  them  a  joy  or  a  sorrow  as  we  will.  Tran- 
siency is  stamped  on  all  our  possessions,  occupations, 
and  delights.  We  have  the  hunger  for  eternity  in  our 
souls,  the  thought  of  eternity  in  our  hearts,  the  destin- 
ation for  eternity  written  on  our  inmost  being,  and  the 
need  to  ally  ourselves  with  eternity  proclaimed  even  by 
the  most  short-lived  trifles  of  time.  Either  these  things 
will  be  the  blessing  or  the  curse  of  our  lives.  Which  do 
you  mean  that  they  shall  be  for  you  ? 

III.  These  thoughts  lead  us  to  consider  The  possible 
Saiisfyifig  of  our  Souls. 

This  book  of  Ecclesiastes  is  rather  meant  to  enforce 
the  truth  of  the  weariness  and  emptiness  of  a  godless  life, 
than  of  the  blessedness  of  a  godly  one.  It  is  the  record 
of  the  struggles  of  a  soul — "  the  confessions  of  an  in- 
quiring spirit" — feeling  and  fighting  its  way  through 
many  errors,  and  many  partial  and  unsatisfactory 
solutions  of  the  great  problem  of  life,  till  he  reaches  the 
one  in  which  he  can  rest.     When  he  has  touched  that 


XV.]  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART. 


235 


goal  his  work  is  done.  And  so  the  devious  way  is  told 
in  the  book  at  full  length,  while  a  sentence  sets  forth 
the  conclusion  to  which  he  was  working,  even  when  he 
was  most  bewildered.  "The  conclusion  of  the  whole 
matter"  is  "P>ar  God  and  keep  his  commandments." 
That  is  all  that  a  man  needs.  It  is  "  the  whole  of  man." 
"All  is"  not  "vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit"  then — 
but  "all  things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that 
love  God." 

The  preacher  in  his  day  learned  that  it  was  possible 
to  satisfy  the  hunger  for  eternity,  which  had  once 
seemed  to  him  a  questionable  blessing.  He  learned 
that  it  was  a  loving  Providence  which  had  made  man's 
home  so  little  fit  for  him,  that  he  might  seek  the  "  city 
which  hath  foundations."  He  learned  that  all  the 
pain  of  passing  beauty,  and  the  fading  flowers  of  man's 
goodliness  were  capable  of  being  turned  into  a  solemn 
joy.  Standing  at  the  centre,  he  saw  order  instead  of 
chaos,  and  when  he  had  come  back,  after  all  his  search, 
to  the  old  simple  faith  of  peasants  and  children  in  Judah, 
to  fear  God  and  keep  His  commandments,  he  under- 
stood why  God  had  set  eternity  in  man's  heart,  and  then 
flung  him  out,  as  if  in  mockery,  amidst  the  stormy  waves 
of  the  changeful  ocean  of  time 

And  we,  who  have  a  further  word  from  God,  may  have 
a  fuller  and  yet  more  blessed  conviction,  built  upon  our 
own  happy  experience,  if  we  choose,  that  it  is  possible 
for  us  to  have  that  deep  thirst  slaked,  that  longing 
appeased  We  have  Christ  to  trust  to  and  to  love.  He 
has  given  Himself  for  us  that  all  our  many  sins  against 


236  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART,  SERM. 

the  Eternal  Love  and  our  guilty  squandering  of  our  hearts 
upon  transitory  treasures  may  be  forgiven.  He  has  come 
amongst  us,  the  Word  in  human  flesh,  that  our  pooi  eyes 
may  see  the  Eternal  walking  amidst  the  things  of  lime 
and  sense,  and  may  discern  a  beauty  in  Him  beyond 
whatsoever  things  are  lovely.  He  has  come  that  we 
through  Him  may  lay  hold  on  God,  even  as  in  Him  God 
lays  hold  on  us.  As  in  mysterious  and  transcendant 
union  the  Divine  takes  into  itself  the  human  in  that 
person  of  Jesus,  and  Eternity  is  blended  with  Time ;  we, 
trusting  Him  and  yielding  our  hearts  to  Him,  receive 
into  our  poor  lives  an  incorruptible  seed,  and  for  us  the 
soul-satisfjdng  realities  that  abide  for  ever  mingle  with 
and  are  reached  through  the  shadows  that  pass  away. 

Brethren,  yield  yourselves  to  Him  !  In  conscious  im- 
worthiness,  in  lowly  penitence,  let  us  cast  ourselves  on 
Jesus  Christ,  our  sacrifice,  for  pardon  and  peace  !  Trust 
Him  and  love  Him  !  Live  by  Him  and  for  Him  !  And 
then,  the  loftiest  thoughts  of  our  hearts,  as  they  seek  after 
absolute  perfection  and  changeless  love,  shall  be  more 
than  fulfilled  in  Him  who  is  more  than  all  that  man  ever 
dreamed,  because  He  is  the  perfection  of  man,  and  the 
Son  of  God. 

Love  Christ  and  live  in  Him,  taking  Him  for  the 
motive,  the  spring,  and  the  very  atmosphere  of  your  lives, 
and  then  no  capacities  will  languish  for  lack  of  either 
stimulus  or  field,  and  no  weariness  will  come  over  you, 
as  if  you  were  a  stranger  from  your  home.  For  if  Christ 
be  near  us,  all  things  go  well  with  us.  If  we  live  for 
Him,  the  power  of  that  motive  will  make  all  our  nature 


«V.]  ETERNITY  IN  THE  HEART,  837 

blossom  like  the  vernal  woods,  and  dry  branches  break 
into  leafage.  If  we  dwell  in  Him,  we  shall  be  at  home 
wherever  we  are,  hke  the  patriarch  who  pitched  his  tent 
in  many  lands,  but  always  had  the  same  tent  wherever  he 
went  So  we  shall  have  the  one  abode,  though  its  place 
in  the  desert  may  vary — and  we  shall  not  need  to  care 
whether  the  encampment  be  beneath  the  palm  trees  and 
beside  the  wells  of  Elim,  or  amidst  the  drought  of  Mara, 
so  long  as  the  same  covering  protects  us,  and  the  same 
pillar  of  fire  bums  above  us. 

Love  Christ,  and  then  the  eternity  in  the  heart  will  not 
be  a  great  aching  void,  but  will  be  filled  with  the  ever- 
lasting life  which  Christ  gives,  and  is.  The  vicissitude 
will  really  become  the  source  of  freshness  and  progress 
which  God  meant  it  to  be.  Everything  which,  when 
made  our  all-sufficient  portion  becomes  stale  and  un- 
profitable, even  in  its  time,  will  be  apparelled  in  celestial 
light  It  shall  all  be  lovely  and  pleasant  while  it  lasts, 
and  its  beauty  will  not  be  saddened  by  the  certainty  of 
its  decay,  nor  its  empty  place  a  pain  when  it  has  passed 
away. 

Take  Christ  for  Saviour  and  friend,  your  guide  and 
support  through  time,  and  Himself  your  Eternity  of  Joy, 
then  all  discords  are  reconciled — and  "all  things  are 
yours — whether  the  world,  or  life,  or  death,  or  things 
present,  or  things  to  come;  all  are  yours,  and  ye  are 
Christ's,  and  Christ  is  God's." 


23S 


SERMON     XVI. 
man's  blessedness  and  god's  praise. 


Psalm  i,  i,  2. 

Blessed  is  the  man  that  walketh  not  in  the  counsel  of  the  ungodly, 
nor  standeth  in  the  way  of  sinners,  nor  sitteth  in  the  seat  of  the  scorn- 
ful.    But  his  delight  is  in  the  law  of  the  Lord. 

Psalm  cl,  6. 

Let  every  thing  that  hath  breath  praise  the  Lord.     Praise  ye  the 

Lord. 

npHE  Psalter  is  the  echo  in  devout  hearts  of  the  other 
portions  of  Divine  revelation.  There  are  in  it, 
indeed,  further  disclosures  of  God's  mind  and  purposes, 
but  its  especial  characteristic  is — the  reflection  of  the 
light  of  God  from  brightened  faces  and  believing  hearts. 

As  we  hold  it  to  be  inspired,  we  cannot  simply  say  that 
it  is  man's  response  to  God's  voice.  But  if  the  rest  of 
Scripture  may  be  called  the  speech  of  the  Spirit  of  God 
to  men,  this  book  is  the  answer  of  the  Spirit  of  God 
in  men. 

These  two  verses  which  I  venture  to  lay  side  by  side 
present  in  a  very  remarkable  way  this  characteristic.  It 
is  not  by  accident  that  they  stand  where  they  do,  the  first 


MAN'S  BLESSEDNESS  AND  GODS  PRAISE,     239 

and  last  verses  of  the  whole  collection,  inclosing  all,  as  it 
were,  within  a  golden  ring,  and  bending  round  to  meet 
each  other.  They  are  the  summing  up  of  the  whole 
purpose  and  issue  of  God's  revelation  to  men. 

The  first  and  second  Psalms  are,  obviously,  intended 
as  a  kind  of  double  introduction  to  the  whole  Psalter. 
We  might  call  them  the  frontispiece  and  vignette  to  the 
book.  They  echo  the  two  main  portions  of  the  old 
revelation — the  Law  and  the  Prophets.  The  first  of 
them  is  taken  up  with  the  celebration  of  the  blessedness 
and  fruitful,  stable  being  of  the  man  who  loves  the  Law 
of  the  Lord,  as  contrasted  with  the  rootless  and  barren 
life  of  the  ungodly,  who  is  like  the  chaff.  The  second  is 
occupied  with  the  contemplation  of  the  Divine  **  decree  " 
by  which  the  coming  king  is  set  in  God's  "  holy  hill  of 
Zion,"  and  of  the  blessedness  of  "  all  they  who  put  their 
trust  in  him,"  as  contrasted  with  the  swift  destruction  that 
shall  fall  on  the  vain  imaginations  of  the  rebellious  heathen 
and  banded  kings  of  earth. 

The  words  of  our  first  text,  then,  may  well  stand  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Psalter.  They  express  the  great  purpose 
for  which  God  has  given  His  law.  They  are  the  witness 
of  human  experience  to  the  substantial,  though  partial, 
accomplishment  of  that  purpose.  They  rise  in  buoyant 
triumph  over  that  which  is  painful  and  apparently  opposed 
to  it;  and  in  spite  of  sorrow  and  sin,  proclaim  the 
blessedness  of  the  life  which  is  rooted  in  the  Law  of  the 
Lord. 

The  last  words  of  the  book  are  as  significant  as  its 
first     The  closing  Psalms  are  one  long  call  to  praise — 


240  MAN'S  BLESSEDNESS  [SERBL 

they  probably  date  from  the  time  of  the  restoration  undei 
P^zra  and  Nehemiah,  when,  as  we  know,  "  the  service  ol 
song"  was  carefully  re-established,  and  the  harps  which 
had  hung  silent  upon  the  willows  by  the  rivers  of  Babylon 
woke  again  their  ancient  melodies.  These  Psalms  climb 
higher  and  higher  in  their  rapturous  call  to  all  creatures, 
animate  and  inanimate,  on  earth  and  in  heaven,  to  praise 
Him.  The  golden  waves  of  music  and  song  pour  out 
ever  faster  and  fuller.  At  last  we  hear  this  invocation  to 
every  instrument  of  music  to  praise  Him,  responded  to^ 
as  we  may  suppose,  by  each  in  turn  as  summoned  adding 
its  tributary  notes  to  the  broadening  river  of  harmony — 
until  all,  with  gathered  might  of  glad  sound  blended  with 
the  crash  of  many  voices,  unite  in  the  final  words,  "  Let 
everything  that  hath  breath  praise  the  Lord  Praise  ye 
the  Lord." 

I.  We  have  here  a  twofold  declaration  of  God's  great 
purpose  in  all  His  self-revelation,  and  especially  in  the 
Gospel  of  His  Son. 

Our  first  text  may  be  translated  as  a  joyful  exclamation, 
"  Oh  !  the  blessedness  of  the  man — whose  delight  is  in 
the  law  of  the  Lord"  Our  second  is  an  invocation  or  a 
command.  The  one  then  expresses  the  purpose  which 
God  secures  by  his  gift  of  the  Law;  the  other  the  purpose 
which  he  summons  us  to  fulfil  by  the  tribute  of  our  hearts 
and  songs — man's  happiness  and  God's  glory. 

His  purpose  is  MarCs  Blessedness, 

That  is  but  another  way  of  saying,  God  is  love.  For 
love,  as  we  know  it,  is  eminently  the  desire  for  the 
happiness  of  the  person  on  whom  it  is  fixed      And 


JCVI.]  AND  GOD'S  PRAISE.  241 

auless  the  love  of  God  be  like  ours,  however  it  may 
transcend  it,  there  is  no  revelation  of  Him  to  our  hearts 
at  all.  If  He  be  love,  then  He  "  delights  in  the  pros- 
perity "  of  His  children. 

And  that  purpose  runs  through  all  His  acts.  For 
perfect  love  is  all-pervasive,  and  even  with  us  men,  it 
rules  the  whole  being ;  nor  does  he  love  at  all  who  seeks 
for  the  welfare  of  the  heart  he  clings  to  by  fits  and  starts, 
by  some  of  his  acts  and  not  by  others.  WTien  God  comes 
forth  from  the  unvisioned  light — which  is  thick  darkness 
— of  His  own  Eternal,  self-adequate  Being,  and  flashes 
into  energy  in  creation,  providence,  or  grace,  the  Law  of 
His  Working  and  His  Purpose  are  one,  in  all  regions. 
The  unity  of  the  Di\nne  acts  depends  on  this — that  all 
flow  from  one  deep  source,  and  all  move  to  one  mighty 
end.  Standing  on  the  height  to  which  His  own  declara- 
tions of  His  own  nature  lifts  our  feebleness,  we  can  see 
how  the  "  river  of  God  that  waters  the  garden  "  and 
"  parts "  into  many  "  heads,"  gushes  from  one  fountain. 
One  of  these  Psalms  puts  what  people  call  the  "  philo- 
sophy" of  creation  and  of  providence  very  clearly  in 
accordance  with  this  thought — that  the  Love  of  God  is 
the  source,  and  the  blessedness  of  man  the  end  of  all  His 
work.  "  To  him  that  made  great  lights ;  for  his  mercy 
endureth  for  ever.  To  him  that  slew  mighty  kings ;  for 
his  mercy  endureth  for  ever." 

Creation,  then,  is  the  effluence  of  the  loving  heart  of 
God.  Though  the  sacred  characters  be  but  partially 
legible  to  us  now,  what  He  wrote,  on  stars  and  flowers, 
on  the  infinitely  great  and  the  infinitely  small,  on  the 

3  Q 


242  MAN'S  BLESSEDNESS  [SEI J 

infinitely  near  and  the  infinitely  far  off,  with  His  creating 
hand,  was  the  one  inscription — God  is  love.  And  as  in 
nature,  so  in  providence.  The  origination,  and  the 
support,  and  the  direction  of  all  things,  are  the  works 
and  the  heralds  of  the  same  love.  It  is  printed  in  starry 
letters  on  the  sky.  It  is  graven  on  the  rocks,  and  breathec 
by  the  flowers.  It  is  spoken  as  a  dark  saying  even  bj 
sorrow  and  pain.  The  mysteries  of  destructive  and 
crushing  providences  have  come  from  the  same  source. 
And  he  who  can  see  with  the  Psalmist  the  ever-during 
mercy  of  the  Lord,  as  the  reason  of  creation  and  of 
judgments,  has  in  his  hands  the  golden  key  which  opei- 
all  the  locks  in  the  palace  chambers  of  the  great  King. 
He  only  hath  penetrated  to  the  secret  of  things  material, 
and  stands  in  the  light  at  the  centre,  who  understands 
that  all  comes  from  the  one  source — God's  endless  desire 
for  the  blessedness  of  His  creatures  ! 

But  while  all  God's  works  do  thus  praise  Him  by  testi- 
fying that  He  seeks  to  bless  His  creatures,  the  loftiest 
example  of  that  desire  is,  of  course,  found  in  His  revela- 
tion of  Himself  to  men's  hearts  and  consciences,  to  men's 
spirit  and  wills.  That  mightiest  act  of  love,  beginning  in 
the  long  past  generations,  has  culminated  in  Him  in 
whom  dwelleth  the  whole  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily, 
and  in  whose  work  is  all  the  love — the  perfect,  inconceiv- 
able, patient,  omnipotent  love  of  our  redeeming  God. 

And  then,  remember  that  this  is  not  inconsistent  witii 
or  contradicted  by  the  sterner  aspects  of  that  revelation, 
which  cannot  be  denied,  and  ought  not  to  be  minimized 
or  softened.      There^  on  the  right  hand,  are  the  flower)' 


XVI.]  AND  GOD'S  PRAISE,  243 


slopes  of  the  mount  of  Blessing ;  iherey  on  the  left,  the 
barren,  stem,  thunder-riven,  lightning-splintered  pinnacles 
of  the  mount  of  Cursing.  Every  clear  note  of  benediction 
hath  its  low  minor  of  imprecation  from  the  other  side. 
Between  the  two,  overhung  by  the  hopes  of  the  one,  and 
frowned  upon  and  dominated  by  the  threatenings  of  the 
other,  is  pitched  the  little  camp  of  our  human  life,  and  the 
path  of  our  pilgrimage  runs  in  the  trough  of  the  valley 
between.  And  yet — might  I  not  go  a  step  farther,  and 
say  that  above  the  parted  summits  stretches  the  one  over- 
arching blue,  uniting  them  both,  and  their  roots  deep  down 
below  the  surface  interlace  and  twine  together  ?  That  is 
to  say,  the  threatenings  and  rebukes,  the  acts  of  retributive 
judgment,  which  are  contained  in  the  revelation  of  God, 
are  no  limitation  nor  disturbance  of  the  clear  and  happy 
faith  that  all  which  we  behold  is  full  of  blessing,  and  that 
all  comes  from  the  Father's  hand.  They  are  the  garb 
in  which  the  Love  needs  to  array  itself  when  it  comes  in 
contact  with  man's  sin  and  man's  evil.  The  love  of  God 
appears  no  less  when  it  teaches  us  in  grave  sad  tones  that 
"  the  wages  of  sin  is  death,"  than  when  it  proclaims  that 
"the  gift  of  God  is  eternal  life." 

Love  threatens  that  it  may  never  have  to  execute  its 
threats.  Love  warns  that  we  may  be  wise  in  time.  Love 
prophesies  that  its  sad  forebodings  may  not  be  fulfilled. 
And  love  smites  with  lighter  strokes  of  premonitory 
rhastisements,  that  we  may  never  need  or  feel  "  the  whips 
of  scorpions." 

Remember,  too,  that  these  sterner  aspects  both  of  Law 
ind  of  Gospel  point  this  lesson — that  we  shall  very  much 


244  MAN'S  BLESSEDNESS  [SERM. 

misunderstand  God's  purpose  if  we  suppose  it  to  be — 
blessedness  for  us  men  anyhow^  irrespective  altogether  of 
character.  Some  people  seem  to  think  that  God  loves 
us  so  much,  they  would  say — so  little,  so  ignobly,  I  would 
say — as  that  He  only  desires  us  to  be  happy.  They  seem 
to  think  that  the  Divine  love  is  tarnished  unless  it  pro- 
vides for  men's  felicity,  whether  they  are  God-loving  and 
God-like  or  no.  Thus  the  solemn  and  majestic  love  of 
the  Father  in  heaven  is  to  be  brought  down  to  a  weak 
good  nature,  which  only  desires  that  the  child  shall  cease 
crying  and  be  happy,  and  does  not  mind  by  what  that  end 
is  reached  God's  purpose  is  blessedness;  but,  as  this  very 
text  tells  us,  not  blessedness  anyhow,  but  one  which  will 
not  and  cannot  be  given  by  God  to  those  who  walk  in  the 
way  of  sinners.  His  love  desires  that  we  should  be  holy, 
and  followers  of  God  as  dear  children — and  the  blessedness 
which  it  bestows  comes  from  pardon  and  growing  fellow- 
ship with  Him.  It  can  no  more  fall  on  rebellious  hearts 
chan  the  pure  crj'stals  of  the  snow  can  lie  and  sparkle  on 
the  hot  black  cone  of  a  volcano. 

The  other  text  that  I  have  read  sets  forth  another  view 
of  God's  purpose.  God  seeks  our  praise,  "  The  glory  of 
God  is  the  end  of  all  the  Divine  actions.  Now,  that  is  a 
statement  which  no  doubt  is  irrefragable,  and  a  plain 
deduction  from  the  very  conception  of  an  infinite  Being. 
But  it  may  be  held  in  such  connections,  and  spoken  with 
such  erroneous  application,  and  so  divorced  from  other 
truths,  that  instead  of  being  what  it  is  in  the  Bible— good 
news,  it  shall  become  a  curse  and  a  lie.  It  may  be  so 
understood  as  to  describe  not  our  Father  in  heaven,  but 


XVL]  and  GOD'S  PRAISE.  245 

an  almighty  devil !  But,  when  the  thought  that  God's 
purpose  in  all  His  acts  is  His  own  glory,  is  firmly  united 
with  that  other,  that  His  purpose  in  all  His  acts  is  our 
blessing,  then  we  begin  to  understand  how  full  of  joy  it 
may  be  for  us.  His  glory  is  sought  by  Him  in  the  mani- 
festation of  His  loving  heart,  mirrored  in  our  illuminated 
and  gladdened  hearts.  Such  a  glory  is  not  unworthy  of 
infinite  love.  It  has  nothing  in  common  with  the  am- 
bitious and  hungry  greed  of  men  for  reputation  or  self- 
display.  That  desire  is  altogether  ignoble  arid  selfish 
when  it  is  found  in  human  hearts  \  and  it  would  be  none 
the  less  ignoble  and  selfish  if  it  were  magnified  into 
infinitude,  and  transferred  to  the  Divine.  But  to  say  that 
God's  glory  is  His  great  end  is  surely  but  another  way  of 
saying  that  He  is  love.  The  love  that  seeks  to  bless  us 
desires,  as  all  love  does,  that  it  should  be  known  for  what 
it  is,  that  it  should  be  recognized  in  our  glad  hearts,  and 
smiled  back  again  from  our  brightened  faces.  God 
desires  that  we  should  know  Him,  and  so  have  Eternal 
Life  \  He  desires  that  knowing  Him,  we  should  love  Him, 
and  loving  should  praise,  and  so  should  glorify  Him. 
He  desires  that  there  should  be  an  interchange  of  love 
bestowing  and  love  receiving,  of  gifts  showered  down,  of 
praise  ascending,  of  fire  falling  from  the  heavens,  and 
sweet  incense,  from  grateful  hearts,  going  up  in  fragrant 
clouds  acceptable  unto  God.  It  is  a  sign  of  a  Fatherly 
heart  that  He  "  seekdh  such  to  worship  Him.'^  He  will 
be  glorified  by  our  praise,  because  He  loves  us  so  much. 
He  commences  with  an  offer.  He  advances  to  a  command. 
He  gives  first,  and  then  (not  till  then)  He  comes  seeking 


246  MAN'S  BLESSEDNESS  [SERM. 

fruit  of  the  "trees"  which  are  "the  planting  of  the  Lord, 
that  He  might  be  glorified."  His  plea  is  not,  "the  vine- 
yard belongs  to  me,  and  I  have  a  right  to  its  fruits,"  but 
"  what  could  have  been  done  more  to  my  vineyard,  that 
I  have  not  done  in  it  ? — judge  between  me  and  my  vine- 
yard." First,  he  showers  down  blessings ;  then,  looks  for 
the  revenue  of  praise  ! 

II.  We  may  also  take  these  passages  as  giving  us  a 
twofold  expressiofi  of  the  actual  effects  of  God's  revelation, 
especially  in  the  Gospel,  even  here  upon  earth. 

The  one  text  is  the  joyful  exclamation  built  upon 
experience  and  observation.  The  other  is  a  call  which  is 
answered  in  some  measure  even  by  voices  that  are  often 
dumb  in  unthankfulness,  often  broken  by  sobs,  often 
murmuring  in  penitence. 

God  does  actually,  though  not  completely,  make  men 
blessed  here.  Our  text  sums  up  the  experience  of  all  the 
devout  hearts  and  lives  whose  emotions  are  expressed  in 
the  Psalms.  He  who  wrote  this  Psalm  would  preface  the 
whole  by  words  into  which  the  spirit  of  the  book  is  dis- 
tilled. It  will  have  much  to  say  of  sorrow  and  pain.  It 
will  touch  many  a  low  note  of  wailing  and  of  grief. 
There  will  be  complaints  and  penitence,  and  sighs  almost 
of  despair  before  it  closes.  But  this  which  he  puts  first  is 
the  key-note  of  the  whole.  So  it  is  in  our  histories.  They 
will  run  through  many  a  dark  and  desert  place.  We  shall 
have  bitterness  and  trials  in  abundance,  there  will  be 
many  an  hour  of  sadness  caused  by  my  own  evil,  and 
many  a  hard  struggle  with  it  But  high  above  all  these 
mists  and  clouds  will  rise  the  hope  that  seeks  the  skies. 


XVI.]  AND  GOD'S  PRAISE,  247 

and  deep  beneath  all  the  surface  agitations  of  storms  and 
currents  there  will  be  the  unmoved  stillness  of  the  central 
ocean  of  peace  in  our  hearts.  In  the  "  valley  of  weeping  " 
we  may  still  be  *'  blessed"  if  "  the  ways  "  are  in  our  hearts, 
and  if  we  make  of  the  very  tears  "a  well,"  drawing 
refreshment  from  the  very  trials.  With  all  its  sorrows 
and  pains,  its  fightings  and  fears,  its  tribulations  in  the 
world,  and  its  chastenings  from  a  father's  hand,  the  life  of 
a  Christian  is  a  happy  life,  and  the  Joy  of  the  Lord 
remains  with  His  Servants. 

More  than  twenty  centuries  have  passed  since  that 
Psalm  was  written.  As  many  stretched  dim  behind  the 
Psalmist  as  he  sang.  He  was  gathering  up  in  one  sen- 
tence the  spirit  of  the  past,  and  confirming  it  by  his  own 
life's  history.  And  has  any  one  that  has  lived  since  then 
stood  up  and  said — *'  Behold  !  I  have  found  it  otherwise. 
I  have  waited  on  God,  and  He  has  not  heard  my  cry. 
I  have  served  Him,  and  that  for  nought  I  have  trusted 
in  Him,  and  been  disappointed.  I  have  sought  His  face — 
in  vain.  And  I  say,  from  my  own  experience,  that  the 
man  who  trusts  in  Him  is  not  blessed  ?"  Not  one,  thank 
God  !  The  history  of  the  past,  so  far  as  this  matter  is 
concerned,  may  be  put  in  one  sentence,  "They  looked 
unto  him  and  were  lightened,  and  their  faces  were  not 
ashamed."  And  as  for  the  present,  are  there  not  some  of 
us  who  can  say,  "This  poor  man  cried,  and  the  Lord 
heard  him,  and  saved  him  out  of  all  his  troubles." 

Brethren,  make  the  experiment  for  yourselves.  Test 
this  experience  by  your  own  simple  affiance  and  living 
trust  in  Jesus  Christ.     We  have  the  experience   of  all 


248  MAN'S  BLESSEDNESS  [SERM. 

generations  to  encourage  us.  What  has  blessed  them  is 
enough  for  you  and  me.  Like  the  meal  and  the  oil, 
which  were  the  Prophet's  resource  in  famine,  yesterday's 
supply  does  not  diminish  to-morrow's  store.  We,  too, 
may  have  all  that  gladdened  the  hearts  and  stayed  the 
spirits  of  the  saints  of  old.  "  O I  taste  and  see  that 
God  is  good."  "Blessed  is  the  man  that  trusteth  in 
him." 

So,  too,  God's  ^it  produces  mat^s  praise. 

What  is  it  that  he  desires  from  us  ?  Nothing  but  our 
thankful  recognition  and  reception  of  His  benefit.  We 
honour  God  by  taking  the  full  cup  of  salvation  which  He 
commends  to  our  Ups,  and  by  calling,  while  we  drink, 
upon  the  name  of  the  Lord.  Our  true  response  to  His 
Word,  which  is  essentially  a  proffer  of  blessing  to  us,  is  to 
open  our  hearts  to  receive,  and,  receiving,  to  render 
grateful  acknowledgment.  The  echo  of  love  which 
gives  and  forgives,  is  love  which  accepts  and  thanks.  We 
have  but  to  lift  up  our  empty  and  impure  hands,  opened 
wide  to  receive  the  gift  which  He  lays  in  them — and 
though  they  be  empty  and  impure,  yet  "  the  lifting  up  of 
our  hands  is  as  the  evening  sacrifice ; "  our  sense  of  need 
stands  in  the  place  of  all  offerings.  The  stained  thank- 
fulness of  our  poor  hearts  is  accepted  by  Him  who 
inhabiteth  the  praises  of  Eternity,  and  yet  delights  in  the 
praises  of  Israel.  He  bends  fi-om  Heaven  to  give,  and 
all  He  asks  is  that  we  should  take.  He  only  seeks  our 
thankfulness— but  He  does  seek  it.  And  wherever  His 
grace  is  discerned,  and  His  love  is  welcomed,  there  praise 
breaks  forth,  as  surely  as  streams  pour  from  the  cave  of 


XVl]  and  GOD'S  PRAISE,  249 

the  glacier  when  the  sun  of  summer  melts  it,  or  earth 
answers  the  touch  of  spring  with  flowers. 

And  that  effect  is  produced,  notwithstanding  all  the 
complaints  and  sighs  and  tears  which  sometimes  choke 
our  praise.  It  is  produced  even  while  these  last — the 
psalms  of  thanksgiving  are  not  all  reserved  for  the  end  of 
the  book.  But  even  in  those  which  read  like  the  very 
sobs  of  a  broken  heart,  there  is  ever  present  some  tone  of 
grateful  acknowledgment  of  God's  mercy.  He  sends  us 
sorrow,  and  He  wills  that  we  should  weep — but  they 
should  be  tears  like  David's,  who,  at  the  lowest  point  of 
his  fortunes,  when  he  plaintively  besought  God,  "  Put 
thou  my  tears  into  thy  bottle  " — could  say  in  the  same 
breath,  "  Thy  vows  are  upon  me,  O  God  :  I  will  render 
praises  unto  thee."  God  works  on  our  souls  that  we  may 
have  the  consciousness  of  sin,  and  He  wills  that  we 
should  come  with  broken  and  contrite  hearts,  and  hke  the 
king  of  Israel  wail  out  our  confessions  and  supplications — 
"Have  mercy  upon  me,  O  God,  according  to  thy  loving- 
kindness."  But,  like  him,  we  should  even  in  our  lowliest 
abasement,  when  our  hearts  are  bruised,  be  able  to  say 
along  with  our  contrition,  "  Open  thou  my  lips,  and  my 
mouth  shall  show  forth  thy  praise."  Our  sorrows  are 
never  so  great  that  they  hide  our  mercies.  The  sky  is 
never  covered  with  clouds  so  that  neither  sun  nor  stars 
appear  for  many  days.  And  in  every  Christian  heart  the 
low  tones  of  lamentation  and  confession  are  blended  with 
grateful  praise.  So  it  is  even  in  the  darkest  moments, 
whilst  the  blast  of  misfortune  and  misery  is  as  a  storm 
against  the  wall 


25©  MAN'S  BLESSEDNESS  [SERM, 

But  a  brighter  hope  even  for  our  life  here  rises  from 
these  words,  if  we  think  of  the  place  which  they  hold  iij 
the  whole  book.  They  are  the  last  words.  Whatever 
other  notes  have  been  sounded  in  its  course,  all  ends  in 
this.  The  winter's  day  has  had  its  melancholy  grey  sky, 
with  many  a  bitter  dash  of  snow  and  rain — but  it  has 
stormed  itself  out,  and  at  eventide,  a  rent  in  the  clouds 
reveals  the  sun,  and  it  closes  in  peaceful  clearness  of 
light 

The  note  of  gladness  heard  at  the  beginning,  "Oh,  the 
blessedness  of  the  man  that  delights  in  the  law  of  the 
Lord,"  holds  on  persistently,  like  a  subdued  and  almost 
bewildered  under-current  of  sweet  sound  amid  all  the 
movements  of  some  colossal  symphony,  through  tears  and 
sobs,  confession  and  complaint,  and  it  springs  up  at  the 
close  triumphant,  like  the  ruddy  spires  of  a  flame  long 
smothered,  and  swells  and  broadens,  and  draws  all  the 
intricate  harmonies  into  its  own  rushing  tide.  Some  of 
you  remember  the  great  work  which  has  these  very  words 
for  its  theme.  It  begins  with  the  call,  "All  that  hath  life 
and  breath,  praise  ye  the  Lord  " — and  although  the  glad- 
ness saddens  into  the  plaintive  cry  of  a  soul  sick  with 
hope  deferred,  "  will  the  night  soon  pass?"  yet,  ere  the 
close,  all  discords  are  reconciled,  and  at  last,  with 
assurance  firmer  for  the  experience  of  passing  sorrows, 
loud  as  the  voice  of  many  waters  and  sweet  as  harpers 
harping  with  their  harps,  the  joyful  invocation  peals 
forth  again,  and  all  ends,  as  it  does  in  a  Christian  man's 
life,  and  as  it  does  in  this  book,  with  "  Praise  ye  the 
Lord." 


/CVI.]  AND  GOD'S  PRAISE.  251 

III.  We  have  here  also  a  twofold  prophecy  of  the  per- 
fection of  Heaven. 

Whilst  it  is  true  that  both  of  these  purposes  are  accom- 
plished here  arid  now,  it  is  also  true  that  their  accomplish- 
ment is  but  partial,  and  that  therefore  for  their  fulfilment 
we  have  to  Uft  our  eyes  beyond  this  world  of  imperfect 
faith,  of  incomplete  blessedness,  of  interrupted  praise. 
Whether  the  Psalmist  looked  forward  thus  we  do  not 
know.  But  for  us,  the  very  shortcomings  of  our  joy  and 
of  our  songs  are  prophetic  of  the  perfect  and  perpetual 
rapture  of  the  one,  and  the  perfect  and  perpetual  music 
of  the  other.  We  know  that  He  who  has  given  us  so 
much  will  not  stay  His  hand  until  He  has  perfected  that 
which  concerns  us.  We  know  that  He  who  has  taught 
our  dumb  hearts  to  magnify  His  name  will  not  cease  till 
"  out  of  the  lips  of  babes  and  sucklings  He  has  perfected 
praise."  We  know  that  the  pilgrims  in  whose  hearts  are 
the  ways  are  blessed.  We  are  sure  that  a  fuller  blessed- 
ness must  belong  to  those  who  have  reached  the  joume/s 
end. 

And  so  these  words  give  us  a  twofold  aspect  of  that 
future  on  which  our  longing  hopes  may  well  fix. 

It  is  the  perfection  of  Man's  Blessedness.  Then  the 
joyous  exclamation  of  our  first  text,  which  we  have  often 
had  to  strive  hard  not  to  disbeheve,  will  be  no  more  a 
truth  of  faith  but  a  truth  of  experience.  Here  we  have 
had  to  trust  that  it  was  so,  even  when  we  could  scarce 
cleave  to  the  confidence.  There,  memory  will  look  back 
on  our  wanderings  through  this  great  wilderness,  and,  en- 
lightened by  the  issue  of  them  all,  will  speak  only  of 


25a  MAN'S  BLESSEDNESS  [SERBL 

Mercy  and  Goodness  as  our  angel  guides  all  our  lives. 

The  end  will  crown  the  work.  Pure  unmingled  con- 
sciousness of  bliss  will  fill  all  hearts,  and  break  into  the 
old  exclamation,  which  we  had  sometimes  to  stifle  sobs 
ere  we  could  speak  on  earth.  When  He  says,  "  Come  in, 
ye  blessed  of  my  Father,"  all  our  tears  and  fears,  and 
pains  and  sins  will  be  forgotten,  and  we  shall  but  have  to 
say,  in  wonder  and  joy,  "  Blessed  are  they  that  dwell  in 
thy  house ;  they  will  be  still  praising  thee." 

It  is  the  perfection  of  God's  praise.  We  may  possibly 
venture  to  see  in  these  wonderful  words  of  our  text  a  dim 
and  far-off  hint  of  a  possibility  that  seems  to  be  pointed 
at  in  many  parts  of  Scripture — that  the  blessings  of 
Christ's  mighty  work  shall,  in  some  measure  and  manner, 
pass  through  man  to  his  dwelling-place  and  its  creatures. 
Dark  shadows  of  evil — the  mystery  of  pain  and  sorrow — 
lie  over  earth  and  all  its  tribes.  "We  look  for  new 
heavens  and  a  new  earth  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness." 
And  the  statements  of  Scripture  which  represent  creation 
as  suffering  by  man's  sin,  and  participant  in  its  degree  in 
man's  redemption,  seem  too  emphatic  and  precise,  as 
well  as  too  frequent,  and  in  too  didactic  connections,  to 
be  rightly  brushed  aside  as  poetic  imagery.  May  it  not 
be  that  man's  transgression 

"Broke  the  fair  music  that  all  creatures  made 
To  their  great  Lord,  whose  love  their  motion  swayed," 

and  that  man's  restoration  may,  indeed,  bring  back  all 
that  hath  life  and  breath  to  a  harmonious  blessedness- - 
according  to  the  deep  and  enigmatical  words,  which 
declare  that  "  the  creature  itself  also  shall  be  delivered 


XVI.]  AND  GOD'S  PRAISE.  253 

from  the  bondage  of  corruption  into  the  liberty  of  the 

glory  of  the  children  of  God  ?  " 

Be  that  as  it  may,  at  all  events  our  second  text  opens 
to  us  the  gates  of  the  heavenly  temple,  and  shows  us 
there  the  saintly  ranks  and  angel  companies  gathered  in 
the  city  whose  walls  are  salvation  and  its  gates  praise. 

They  harmonize  with  that  other  later  vision  of  heaven 
which  the  Seer  in  Patmos  beheld,  not  only  in  setting  be- 
fore us  worship  as  the  glad  work  of  all  who  are  there,  but 
in  teaching  the  connection  between  the  praises  of  men, 
and  the  answering  hymns  of  angels.  The  harps  of  heaven 
are  hushed  to  hear  their  praise  who  can  sing,  "Thou 
hast  redeemed  us  to  God  by  thy  blood."  And,  in  answer 
to  that  hymn  of  thanksgiving  for  unexampled  deliver- 
ance and  restoring  grace,  the  angels  around  the  throne 
break  forth  into  new  songs  to  the  Lamb  that  was  slain — 
while  still  wider  spread  the  broadening  circles  of  harmon- 
ious praise,  till  at  last  "  every  creature  which  is  in  heaven, 
and  on  the  earth,  and  under  the  earth,  and  such  as  are 
in  the  sea,  and  all  that  are  in  them,"  join  in  the  mighty 
hymn  of  "  Blessing,  and  honour,  and  glory,  and  power, 
unto  Him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  to  the  Lamb 
for  ever  and  ever."  Then  the  rapturous  exclamation 
from  human  souls  redeemed, — "  Oh  the  blessedness  of 
the  men  whom  thou  hast  loved  and  saved,"  shall  be 
answered  by  choral  praise  from  "everything  that  hath 
breath." 

And  are  you  dumb,  my  friend,  in  these  universal  bursts 
of  praise?  Is  that  because  you  have  not  chosen  to  take 
the    universal   blessing    which   God   gives  ?     You   have 


254    MAN'S  BLESSEDNESS  AND  GOD'S  PRAISE. 

nothing  to  do  but  to  receive  the  things  that  are  freely 
given  to  you  of  God — the  forgiveness,  the  cleansing,  the 
life  that  come  from  Christ  by  faith.  Take  them,  and  call 
upon  the  name  of  the  Lord.  And  can  you  refuse  His 
gifts  and  withhold  your  praise  ?  You  can  be  eloquent  in 
thanks  to  those  who  do  you  kindnesses,  and  in  praise  of 
those  whom  you  admire  and  love.  But  your  best  friend 
receives  none  of  your  gratitude  and  none  of  your  praise. 
Dull  ignoble  silence,  and  dull  unthankfulness — with  these 
you  requite  your  Saviour !  "I  tell  you  that,  if  these 
should  hold  their  peace,  the  stones  would  immediately 
cry  out." 


255 


SERMON    XVII. 

PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT. 


3  Kings  t,  ii. 

But  Naaman  was  wroth,  and  went  away,  and  said,  Behold«  I 
thought.  He  will  surely  come  out  to  me,  and  stand,  and  call  on  the 
name  of  the  Ix>rd  his  God,  and  strike  his  hand  over  the  place,  and 
recover  the  leper, 

Wl^  are  justified,  by  the  whole  tenor  of  the  Mosaic 
law  as  to  leprosy,  b  regarding  that  fiightfiil  disease 
as  a  parable  and  symbol 

The  ancient  ritual  treated  it  in  a  fashion  which  is  not 
to  be  accounted  for  by  sanitary  considerations.  The 
leper  had  to  wear  the  signs  of  mourning  for  the  dead 
He  was  rigidly  separated  from  society,  though  the 
balance  of  evidence  goes  to  show  that  the  disease  was 
rarely,  if  at  all,  contagious.  The  ceremonial  connected 
with  his  healing  was  elaborate  and  protracted,  and 
restored  him  first  to  the  communion  of  his  brethren,  and 
afterwards  to  participation  in  the  blessings  of  the 
covenant  with  God.  This  whole  legislation  is  intelligible 
only  if  we  suppose  that  this  one  disease  was  selected  in 
order  to  set  forth  the  true  connection  between  sin  and 


256  PRIDE  OVEPCOMING  WANT,  [SERM. 

death,  and  to  represent  by  the  terrible  analogies  of 
bovHly  corruption  and  piecemeal  dissolution  the  sick- 
ness of  the  soul  and  the  ravages  that  are  made  in  it 
Leprosy  was  hereditary.  It  was  incurable,  at  least  to 
the  medical  skill  of  that  age.  Its  progress  was  slow  but 
certain.  It  ate  away  bone  and  flesh ;  limbs  dropped, 
and  the  flesh  was  "half  consumed"  The  suflerer  was 
"  a  walking  sepulchre,"  a  ghastly  "  death  in  life."  No 
wonder  that  leprosy  should  be  called  "  the  stroke,"  and 
that  the  leper  should  be  taken  by  God,  in  His  merciful 
law,  as  a  living  emblem  of  tlie  death  which  is  the  wages 
of  sin. 

And  we  have  our  Lord's  authority  for  seeing  in  this 
story  of  Naaman  at  least  some  of  the  principles  which 
regulate  the  dispensation  of  His  love  and  grace,  exem- 
plified for  the  world.  He  alleges  it  as  an  instance  of  the 
way  in  which  the  universal  love  over-leaped  all  national 
distinctions,  and  surged  over  the  barriers  which  Jewish 
narrowness  would  have  erected  for  its  free  course.  "  None 
of  them  were  cleansed,  save  Naaman,  the  Syrian."  These 
two  facts,  at  least,  warrant  us  in  dealing  by  way  of 
allusion  and  illustration  with  this  whole  story,  as  being 
a  "little  window  through  which  we  may  see  a  great 
matter" — ^as  being  a  picture  for  us  of  far  wider  things 
than  itself. 

I  need  not  spend  time  over  the  remarkably  graphic 
details  of  the  story.  Look,  for  instance,  at, that  eloquent 
but  in  the  ver>'  first  verse.  After  all  the  pompous 
enumeration  of  the  whole  of  Naaman's  titles — "  captain 
of  the  host  of  the  king  of  Syria,  a  great  man  with  his 


KVIl.J  PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT,  257 


master,  and  honourable,  because  by  him  the  Lord  hath 
given  deliverance  unto  Syria" — (which,  by  the  way,  an 
old  Jewish  tradition  explains  by  saying  that  he  was  the 
man  who  "  pulled  a  bow  at  a  venture  "  that  killed  Ahab) 
— comes  the  suggestive  antithesis,  made  all  the  stronger 
by  the  absence  in  the  original  of  the  connecting  "but"  of 
our  version — but  he  was  a  leper  !    There  is  a  but  in  every 
man's  fortimes,  because  there  is  a  but  in  every  man's 
character.     The  loving  solicitude  of  the  little  slave-giri, 
the  imperious  insolence  of  the  Syrian  king's  letter,   the 
impotent  despair  of  the  king  of  Israel,  the  lofty  confidence 
of  the  prophet,  the  ostentatious  pageantry  of  the  long 
train  of  horses  and  chariots  with  which  the  proud  sick 
man  travelled,   and  their  halt   there  at  the  prophet's 
humble  door,  stand  before  us  in  the  story  as  sharp  and 
clear  as  objects  do  beneath  that  Eastern  sky.     The  great 
man  and  all  his  cortege  are  kept  outside,  and  God's 
servant  will  not  even  come  out,  but  sends  the  message, 
"  Go  and  wash  in  Jordan."    That  uncourtly  reception  is 
no  piece  of  vulgar  arrogance,  like  the  pride  of  a  pope  that 
keeps  an  emperor  standing  in  the  snow  in  the  castle 
yard  for  three  days,  before  he  will  absolve  hinL     It  is  the 
wise  dealing  of  that  Divine  Word  which,  whether  it  come 
seeking  those  who  seek  it  not,  or  remains  still  in  the 
same  place  where  it  was,  even  when  called  upon  with 
tears,  or  shows  itself  froward  to  the  froward,  hath  ever 
one  purpose  of  mercy  in  view,  and  pursues  it  equally 
when  it  '*  saves  the  afflicted,"  and  when  it  "  brings  down 
the  high  looks." 

With  soldier-like  quickness  of  temper  and  pride,  he 

3  R 


^5^  PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT,  [SERM. 

flashes  all  at  once  into  a  blaze.  Leper  as  he  is,  and, 
having  come  there  to  beg  a  cure,  he  cannot  stand  this 
with  patience ;  and  in  his  wrath,  he  lets  us  see  curiously 
and  naturally  enough  all  his  expectations,  and  what  he 
thinks  his  reasonable  ground  of  anger.  He  has  not  been 
treated  with  proper  respect — "I  thought  he  will  surely 
come  out  to  me " — to  me,  the  great  man  with  all  these 
chariots  and  horsemen  at  my  back,  and  talents  of  silver 
and  pieces  of  gold,  and  changes  of  raiment  in  my  bags, 
enough  to  make  this  pauper  of  a  prophet  a  rich  man  for 
the  rest  of  his  life.  He  might  at  least  have  been  civil 
enough  to  come  out  to  me.  I  expected,  too,  that  he 
would  stand  and  call  on  the  name  of  the  Lord,  his  God, 
and  make  a  great  to-do,  and  perform  some  magical  cere- 
monies, and  so  recover  the  leper ;  and  instead  of  that,  I 
get  a  message  to  go  and  wash  in  that  Httle  stream,  the 
Jordan,  when  Abana  and  Pharpar,  the  sweet  rivers  of 
Damascus,  are  far  better  than  all  these.  And  so,  pride, 
and  sense,  and  national  feeling  were  all  blended  together, 
and  he  turned  and  went  away  in  a  rage  !  Then  his  wiser 
servants  calm  him  by  reason,  and  remind  him  that  he 
would  have  been  willing  to  obey  the  prophet  if  he  had 
prescribed  him  some  hard  thing,  and  that  it  was  surely, 
therefore,  common  sense  at  any  rate  to  see  what  would 
come  of  doing  the  very  simple  thing  which  he  did 
command. 

The  characteristics  which  offended  Naaman  are  the 
characteristics  of  God's  cure  for  the  leprosy  of  our  spirits. 
They  are  its  glory  even  though  men  may  stumble  at  them. 
Look  at  them  as  brought  out  here. 


XVII.]  PR  WE  UVERCOMING   WANT,  259 

I.  Note  then,  what  in  this  man's  eyes  was  a  fault — 
what,  to  clearer  vision,  is  a  glory — the  utter  indiffere7ue  oj 
the  Gospel  to  all  distinctions  among  men. 

Naaman  wanted  to  be  treated  as  a  great  man  that 
happened  to  be  a  leper;  Elisha  treated  him  as  a  leper 
ihat  happened  to  be  a  great  man.  He  did  so,  not  out  of 
rudeness  or  caprice,  but  to  bring  this  thought  home  to 
him  : — Your  adventitious  distinctions  (as  you  might  know 
and  feel)  are  of  very  small  consequence  as  long  as  your  skin 
shines  with  the  ghastly  whiteness  of  death ;  and  as  long  as 
it  does,  you  must  be  willing,  first,  to  be  treated  as  a  leper ; 
and,  secondly y  as  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  armies  of 
Damascus. 

And  if  we  put  this  into  more  general  words,  we  are 
brought  into  full  view  of  that  great  characteristic  of  the 
Gospel  which  is  at  once  its  glory  and  its  offence — that  it 
deals  with  all  men  as  on  one  level.  The  community  in 
the  sickness  of  sin  destroys  all  distinctions.  There  is  a 
prince  lying  on  that  bed;  there  a  stable-boy  on  that. 
They  are  ill  of  the  same  disease,  which  affects  the  man, 
not  his  office.  They  need  the  same  treatment,  and — 
thank  God !— they  get  it  from  Him  who  is  no  respecter  of 
persons.  There  is  abundant  distinction  of  ranks  made  by 
all  organized  Christianity ;  for  we  all  carry  a  greater  or  less 
measure  of  worldHness  in  us ;  and  churches,  and  priests, 
and  preachers,  and  congregations  of  all  sorts,  are  only  too 
ready  to  respect  the  gay  clothing  and  the  gold  ring.  But 
in  so  far  as  we  do,  we  are  untrue  to  our  Master  and  to  His 
message.  The  Gospel  shows  its  Divine  origin  by  this, 
that  it  brushes  aside  all  these  as  utterly  insigniiicant— 


2  6o  PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT,  [SERM. 

surface  distinctions  that  mean  nothing  and  are  irrelevant, 
and  goes  right  to  the  centre  of  the  thing — to  the  heart  of 
humanity,  where  we  all  of  us  are  alike. 

Such  treatment  is  true  to  the  fact  of  man's  condition. 
For  it  is  a  fact  that  we  are  all  alike  in  sin.  Inus  all  there 
has  been  and  is  a  voluntary  divergence  and  deflection 
from  the  line  of  right,  which  darkens  a  man's  souL  "  All 
the  world  is  guilty  before  God  !"  You  cannot  refute,  and 
you  will  not  mend  that  old  saying  about  man's  conditioiL 
No  other  theory  is  so  profoundly  and  accurately  true,  as 
that  on  which  the  Bible  proceeds — the  tmiversal  fact  of 
sin,  the  universal  guilt  of  sin,  the  universal  burden  of 
sin.  That  truth  does  not  conflict  with  the  other, 
which  is  sometimes  urged  as  if  it  were  antagonistic,  but 
which  the  Bible  distinctly  recognizes,  of  the  greatness 
and  beauty  of  the  fragments  of  something  nobler 
and  better  that  still  remain;  or  with  the  other,  to 
which  it  leads  up,  of  the  possibility  of  a  recovery.  It 
leaves  undisputed  the  glowing  words  in  which  poets  and 
thinkers  have  celebrated  the  dignity  of  humanity ;  only  it 
asserts  along  with  their  assertion  of  what  is  true  about 
man's  nature,  that  man's  nature  now  is  unnatural,  de- 
formed, smitten  with  a  leprosy,  corroding  by  slow  decay. 
It  is  the  deepest  message  about  our  condition,  responded 
to  in  that  inmost  chamber  of  the  soul,  where,  in  all  of  us, 
there  slumbers  a  solemn  voice  that  speaks  sometimes  as 
from  afar,  in  low,  curt,  authoritative  rebuke,  and  when- 
soever it  speaks  is  the  voice  of  God  in  the  heart 

And  then  there  is  the  other  consideration,  that, 
if  this  be  so,  then  that  moral  and  spiritual  condition  is, 


XVII.]  PRIDE  OVERCOMING   WANT.  261 

in  certain  aspects,  the  most  important  thing  about  a 
man. 

Let  me  put  it  into  plain  English.  Whether  do  you 
think  it  matters  most  in  your  relation  to  God — yours  and 
mine — that  we  are  sinners,  or  that  we  are  cultivated 
people  ?  Whether  do  you  think  it  matters  most  that  our 
hearts  have  started  aside  from  Him  and  our  hands  have 
done  evil,  or  that  we  can  read  Latin  and  Greek  books 
and  are  scholars  ?  Whether  do  you  think  it  matters  most 
that  we  have  broken  God's  commandments,  or  that  here, 
in  Manchester,  we  have  made  a  quantity  of  money,  and 
live  in  fine  houses,  and  take  a  position  before  our  fellows  ? 
Are  we  going  to  stand  upon  our  miserable,  tiny  mole-hills 
beneath  those  solemn  stars  far  above  us  and  say — "  Their 
light  ought  to  fall  upon  us  in  another  fashion  from  what 
it  does  on  those  people  that  live  a  little  lower  down"?  I 
am  a  rich  man.  Come  out  and  strike  thy  hand  over  the 
place.  I  have  got  a  cultivated  taste,  a  highly  polished 
intellect  I  must  have  another  gospel  from  the  vulgar 
crowd.  I  am  a  man  of  position  and  fame.  I  am  not 
going  to  be  treated  like  that  poor  old  woman  in  her  garret, 
like  that  soul  struggling  with  insanity,  like  that  httle  child, 
like  that  barbarian  just  dragged  out  of  cannibalism  and 
savagery.     There  must  be  something  special  for  me  ! 

There  is  something  for  you.  If  the  distinctions  on 
which  you  pride  yourselves  are  worth  anything,  they  will 
help  you  to  apprehend  and  profit  by  God's  gift  But  the 
gift  is  one.  You  must  be  content  to  sit  at  the  public 
table,  to  make  one  of  the  thousands  on  the  grass  there, 
fed  with  the  same  food  as  all  the  others, — women  and 


262  PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT.  [SERM. 

children,  cripples  and  beggars  among  them, — are  fed  on. 
If  any  Pharisee  or  scribe  will  gather  up  his  robes  about 
him,  and  demand  a  meal  apart,  he  will  have  to  go  without. 
It  is  the  same  air  which  vivifies  all  men's  blood,  the  same 
light  which  gleams  in  all  men's  eyes,  the  same  Gospel  which 
saves  all  men's  souls. 

For  this  treatment  of  all  men  as  alike  sinners  is  the 
precursor  of  as  universal  a  mercy.  All  are  alike  in  two 
facts — that  we  have  sinned,  and  that  Christ  has  died  for 
us.  "He  hath  shut  up  all  in  unbelief  that  He  might 
have  mercy  upon  all."  As  sin  and  death,  so  God's  love 
and  Christ's  work  know  nothing  of  our  superficial  distinc- 
tions. Ere  we  meet  in  iiy discriminate  lifelessness  in  the 
grave,  which  levels  all  in  one  corruption,  we  may  meet  in 
equal  blessedness  in  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ,  which 
raises  us  all  to  one  height  of  pardon  and  peace.  His 
love  pours  over  all  the  walls  of  separation  among  men, 
and  comes  to  you  and  me,  dear  brethren,  as  it  comes  to 
every  soul  upon  earth,  dealing  with  that  in  us  which 
is  common  to  us  with  all  our  fellows,  and  neglecting 
altogether  that  in  us  by  which  we  are  distinguished  from 
our  fellows.  "  There  is  neither  Jew  nor  Greek.  There 
is  neither  bond  nor  free.  There  is  neither  male  nor 
female  "  in  the  adaptation,  in  the  destination,  and  in  the 
invitation  with  which  that  Gospel  comes  to  us. 

And,  therefore,  some  men  turn  away  from  it  There 
is  the  narrow  gate  !  Plenty  of  room  for  you — ^no  room 
for  the  load  of  adventitious  distinctions  that  you  carry 
upon  your  shoulders.  And  so  "he  turned,  and  went 
away  in  a  rage !"      And  many  a  heart,  all  unconscious 


XVII.]  FRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT,  263 

perhaps  of  the  course  of  thought  which  is  leading  to  it, 
does  the  same  thing.  Men  crave  for  a  particular  and 
special  gospel,  kick  at  the  idea  of  being  paralleled  and 
levelled  with  every  poor  sinner  and  every  fool  upon  the 
face  of  the  earth;  will  not  have  the  message  that 
recognizes  nothing  except  the  common  humanity,  the 
common  sin,  and  the  universal  pardon  ! 

And  let  me  remind  you  how  this  superb  indifference  of 
the  Gospel  to  all  these  distinctions  of  man  from  man,  is 
its  true  glory,  and  has  wrought  wonderful  things.  The 
Gospel  came  into  a  world  all  swathed  in  ligatures,  all  cleft 
into  classes,  parted  from  one  another  by  deep  gulfs  which 
there  was  no  bridging,  where  nations  frowned  at  one 
another  from  their  battlements,  and  caste,  and  class,  and 
race,  and  culture  rent  men  apart  from  their  fellows,  and 
nothing  but  the  grip  of  an  iron  hand  and  the  false  unity 
of  conquest  held  them  together.  The  Gospel,  the  true 
democracy,  came  and  struck  the  bonds  from  the  slave, 
taught  the  sentiment  of  fraternity,  gave  a  new  word  and  a 
new  thought  to  the  languages  of  earth — "humanity" — 
made  men  and  women  equal  possessors  of  an  equal  grace! 
Not  by  violent  revolution,  not  by  seeking  to  touch  institu- 
tions, but  by  setting  the  example  of  bringing  spiritual 
truths  with  brave  confidence  and  utter  contempt  for  all 
distinctions  equally  to  every  class  of  men  !  And  the  miner 
in  his  cave,  and  the  prince  upon  his  throne,  and  the  grey 
barbarian,  and  the  Christian  child  cluster  together  round 
the  one  throne.  We  being  many  are  one  bread,  "  for  we 
are  all  partakers  of  that  one  bread."  And  class  distinc- 
tions,  and  national   rivalries,  and  professional  enmities. 


264  PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT,  [SERM. 

and  all  the  narrowness  which  separate  men  from  men  pass 
away  in  proportion  as  the  broad  universalities  of  a  Gospel 
that  proclaims  all  under  sin,  and  brings  the  equal  remedy 
for  the  highest  and  the  lowest,  for  the  wisest  and  most 
foolish  are  discerned  and  accepted. 

"  He  turned  and  went  away  in  a  rage !"  And  the 
world  turns,  and  will  yet  do  so  in  all  its  peoples  and 
classes — no  longer  parted  but  blended  in  one  faith,  and 
one  Lord,  to  Him  who  is  the  equal  Saviour  to  the  whole 
race  of  men. 

II.  We  may  draw  from  these  words  an  illustration  of 
what  I  venture  to  call  the  naked  sifnplicity  of  God^s  Gospel, 

He  said,  "  Behold,  I  thought,  he  will  come,  and  stand, 
and  call  on  the  name  of  the  Lord  his  God,  and  strike  his 
hand  over  the  place,  and  so  by  all  that  ceremonial  he  will 
recover  the  leper."  And  what  does  he  get  instead  of  all 
this  ?   Go  and  wash,  and  be  clean. 

It  was  very  like  a  heathen^  accustomed  to  muttered 
spells  and  magical  incantations,  whose  whole  religion 
clung  close  to  the  low  levels  of  earth,  whose  gods  and 
whose  worship,  whose  hopes  and  whose  fears,  were  alike 
material,  to  crave  for  some  external  ritual  of  cleansing. 
It  was  very  like  a  man  to  long  for  something  visible  and 
tangible  for  his  wavering  confidence  to  lay  hold  upon — 
some  fixed  point  belonging  to  solid  earth  to  which  he 
might  fasten  the  filmy  frailty  of  his  faith.  It  was  very 
like  God  to  contradict  the  desire  and  to  give  him  instead — 
only  a  promise  to  grasp,  and  a  command  to  obey,  which 
was  chiefly  a  test  of  his  obedience,  since  common  sense 
told  him  that  water  could  not  wash  away  the  eating  evil. 


XVII.]  PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT.  265 

and  national  pride  rebelled  against  the  pre-eminence  of 
the  river  of  Israel 

The  like  apparent  antagonism  between  men's  wishes 
and  God's  ways  meets  us  in  the  Gospel — and  the  like 
correspondence  between  God's  ways  and  men's  real  wants. 
Christianity  comes  to  us — or  rather,  instead  of  that  abstract 
word,  let  us  say  Christ,  who  is  Christianity,  comes  to  us — 
trusting  wholly  and  only  to  spiritual  remedies.  He,  too, 
says  "  wash  and  be  clean."  The  one  power  that  cleanses 
is  His  blood  for  pardon,  His  spirit  for  holiness.  The  one 
condition  of  receiving  these  is  simple  faith  in  Him  j  all 
externals  are  nothing.  Forms  and  ceremonies,  acts  of 
worship,  and  church  ordinances  are  of  no  avail  The 
bond  that  imites  us  to  Him  who  is  our  life,  is  the  medium 
through  which  life  flows  to  us.  And  that  one  bond  is 
faith ;  and  that  life  is  the  life-giver  who  died  for  us.  The 
Gospel  depends  wholly  on  spiritual  forces,  and  is  received 
only  by  spiritual  acts. 

And  so  people  feel  out  of  their  element  in  a  region 
thus  purely  spiritual  and  immaterial  The  heathenism 
which  is  in  all  of  us,  the  sense-bound  materialism  which 
sways  us  all,  lays  hold  of  the  pure  Gospel  which  Christ 
wrought  and  gives,  and  deforms  it  by  tacking  on  to  it  an 
incongruous  and  heterogeneous  appendage  of  rites  and 
ceremonies,  and  by  investing  the  simple  ordinances  which 
he  enjoined  with  mysterious  power.  What  is  all  that 
cloud  of  teaching  about  sacramental  efficacy,  which 
darkens  the  very  Sun  of  righteousness,  but  a  mist  bom 
from  the  marshes  of  sense  that  lie  undrained  in  so-called 
Christendom  ?     It  is  nothing  else  than  the  modem  form 


266  PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT,  [SERM. 

of  ancient  heathenism.  It  is  the  expression  of  the  old 
desire  to  have  God  and  His  gifts  brought  within  the  limits 
of  the  senses.  "  Bring  down  this  incorporeal  attenuated 
nothing  into  the  low  region  where  I  dwell."  Let  me 
have  "good,  strong,  stupefying  altar  smoke" — to  quote 
words  familiar  to  some  of  you,  in  which  that  spirit  is 
wonderfully  expressed — ^and  let  me  "  see  God  made  and 
eaten  all  day  long  "  upon  the  altar  there. 

And  so  we  are  told  that  even  such  a  story  as  this  of 
our  text  points  to  the  supernatural  efficacy  of  baptism, 
and  that  "  wash  and  be  clean  "  is  the  symbol  of  that  holy 
laver  of  regeneration.  I  need  only  say  about  that,  that 
an  external  act  cannot  be  the  symbol  of  an  external  act 
That  is  false  heraldry,  colour  upon  colour.  If  it  is  a 
symbol  at  all,  the  material  must  be  a  symbol  of  the 
spiritual ;  the  outward  act,  of  the  inward  submission  to 
the  cleansing  of  the  soul ;  the  washing  which  purified  the 
leper,  of  the  faith  by  which  the  sinner  is  cleansed — ^and 
the  whole  story,  as  we  say,  an  illustration  of  that  Divine 
simplicity,  and  abstinence  from  all  reliance  on  outward 
acts,  which  is  the  very  essence  of  God's  way  of  salvation 
by  Jesus  Christ  For  if  one  part  of  the  story  has  to  be 
transposed  into  another  key,  there  will  be  discord,  unless 
the  whole  be  so.  And  if  we  are  to  say  leprosy  was  the 
symbol  of  the  soul-sickness  of  sin,  and  healing  the  symbol 
of  the  soul-cleansing  of  pardon  and  sanctifying,  then  we 
must  lift  the  washing  in  the  river  of  Israel  into  the  same 
region,  and  recognize  in  it  the  symbol  of  the  soul's  act  of 
faith,  whereby  our  stained  nature  is  plunged  into  that 
foimtain  opened  for  sin  and  for  uncleanness. 


xvil]  pride  overcoming  want,  267 

Brethren,  do  you  hold  fast  by  the  Divine  simplicity  of 
this  Gospel.  "  It  is  the  Spirit  that  quickeneth,  the  flesh 
profiteth  nothing"— though  it  were  the  flesh  that  was 
broken  for  our  salvation.  Could  we  partake  of  it,  what 
would  //  avail  to  give  us  life  ?  Our  Lord  has  answered 
the  question  in  that  very  conversation  which  is  so  often 
appealed  to  as  if  it  taught  Sacramentarian  teaching,  for 
we  find  there,  as  if  mutually  explanatory,  or  rather  iden- 
tical— "  He  that  believeth  on  me  hath  everlasting  life  ; 
I  am  that  bread  of  life ; "  and  "  whoso  eateth  my  flesh, 
and  drinketh  my  blood,  hath  everlasting  life."  We,  who 
believe  that  the  only  feeding  upon  Christ  is  the  occu- 
pation of  mind,  heart,  and  will  with  Him,  His  truth,  His 
work.  His  commands,  and  that  the  Lord's  Supper  is 
simply  a  commemorative  rite  which  helps  us  to  remember, 
and  blesses  us  as  it  brings  His  love  and  His  death 
nearer  to  our  thoughts  and  our  hearts — we,  who  thus 
believe,  are  charged  with  holding  a  "bald,"  "naked," 
"  bare  "  doctrine.  It  is  naked,  with  the  simplicity  of  a 
homogeneous  system  which  does  not  begin  in  the  spirit 
and  find  its  consummation  in  the  flesh.  As  Fuller  says, 
somewhere — "  Better  to  be  threadbare  than  to  have  ver- 
min lurking  under  the  nap."  And  we  may  thank  God 
for  the  naked  simplicity  of  His  Gospel — simple  as  all 
His  work  is  simple,  simple  and  unfathomable,  witli 
a  simplicity  through  which  shine  the  profoundest  mys- 
teries— and  rejoice  that  there  is  one  thing  that  saves 
a  man,  the  love  of  God  who  sent  His  Son  to  die — 
and  that  there  is  one  thing  which  knits  a  man  to  the 
source   of  salvation,    faith    in    the    perfect    sacrifice   of 


268  PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT,  [SERM. 

that  "Lamb  of  God  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of 
the  world." 

But  you,  brethren,  most  of  you  stand  in  no  danger 
such  as  this  that  I  have  been  speaking  oi.  But  there  is 
danger  that  you  and  I  especially  stand  in.  There  is 
plenty  of  formalism  outside  the  limits  of  formal  churches. 
There  may  be  as  much  formalism  in  a  formless  Quaker- 
ism as  in  the  most  developed  ritualism;  and  as  much 
heathenism  in  trusting  to  the  absence  of  ritual  as  in  trust- 
ing to  its  presence.  And  we,  who  are  Nonconformists, 
by  our  very  church  polity  are  tempted  to  attach  a  false 
kind  of  value  to  church  membership  and  to  outward 
participation  in  Christian  ordinances.  We  are  constantly 
tempted  to  put  the  form  in  the  place  of  the  spirit  We 
reject  the  notion  of  Sacramental  Efficacy — but  we  may 
be  fanc)dng  ourselves  better  than  other  people  because 
we  are  members  of  Christian  churches,  and  take  part  in 
their  work  and  worship.  I  am  afraid  that  some  of  us 
think  that  the  efficacy  which  we  deny  to  the  bread  and 
wine  of  the  communion  resides  in  our  forms  of  worship, 
and  in  our  lists  of  members.  We  do  not  escape  from  the 
danger  of  making  religion  a  thing  of  sense  and  of  exter- 
nals by  rejecting  this  or  that  dogma;  and  we  all  need  the 
warning,  "Be  not  entangled  again  with  the  yoke  of 
bondage." 

Brethren,  wash,  and  be  clean  !  Nothing  else  will  bring 
the  healing.  The  naked  simplicity  of  Christ's  Gospel  is 
but  another  way  of  saying — there  is  one  power  that 
pardons,  saves,  and  there  is  one  bond  that  knits  us  to 
that! 


XVII.]  PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT.  269 

III.  Then,  finally,  there  is  connected  with  this  con- 
sideration, and  yet  somewhat  distinct  from  it,  the  other, 
the  utter  rejection  by  the  Gospel  of  all  our  co-operation  in 
our  own  cleansing. 

The  words  of  Naaman  himself  do  not  explicitly  con- 
tain his  refusal  to  do  what  was  required,  on  the  ground 
that  it  was  so  small  a  thing.  But  that  was  evidently  in 
his  mind,  as  well  as  the  other  grounds  of  offence ;  and  it 
comes  out  distinctly  in  the  common-sense  remonstrance 
by  which  his  servants  brought  their  irascible  master  to 
reason — "If  the  prophet  had  bid  thee  do  some  great 
thifig^  wouldest  thou  not  have  done  //  /  how  much  rather 
then,  when  he  saith  to  thee,  Wash,  and  be  clean?" 

Men  would  be  a  great  deal  more  willing  to  accept 
God's  way  of  salvation  if  it  gave  them  some  share  in 
their  own  salvation.  But  its  characteristic  is  that  it  will 
have  none  of  our  work — not  even  so  much  as  this  man 
had  to  do  in  his  healing.  He  was  commanded  to  go 
and  wash.  The  lustration  had  no  power  to  produce 
cleansing.  It  was  only  an  act  of  obedience — not  a 
condition  of  his  healing,  in  the  proper  sense  of  that 
word.  We  are  commanded  to  wash  and  be  clean.  Our 
faith,  by  which  we  come  into  contact  with  Christ's 
cleansing  blood,  is  more  than  Naaman's  bathing 
in  Jordan,  and  it  is  less.  It  is  less,  inasmuch  as  it  is 
not  asked  from  us  as  an  act  of  obedience  which  will  be 
rewarded  with  forgiveness — for  if  that  were  so,  "salva- 
tion by  faith"  would  only  be  a  more  refmed  kind  of  "salva- 
tion by  works."  It  is  more,  inasmuch,  as  there  is  a  real 
and  intelligible  connection  betweeen  our  ikith  and  our 


270  PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT,  [SERM. 

cleansing.  But  our  salvation,  though  not  secured  with- 
out our  faith,  cannot  be  said,  therefore,  to  be  in  any 
measure  procured  by  our  co-operation.  "What  shall 
we  do,"  said  the  Jews,  "  that  we  might  work  the  works 
of  God?"  "This  is  the  work  of  God,"  said  our  Lord 
in  answer,  "that  ye  believe  on  him  whom  he  hath 
sent" 

The  Gospel  rejects  our  co-operation  just  because  it 
demands  our  faith.  For  what  is  faith  ?  Is  not  an  essen- 
tial part  of  it  the  consciousness  that  we  can  do  nothing, 
the  forsaking  and  going  out  of  ourselves,  accompanying 
the  flight  to  Him  ?  The  imder  side  of  faith  is  self- 
abnegation;  the  upper  side  is  confidence  in  Christ 
And,  therefore,  the  proclamation  that  we  are  justified  by 
faith,  is  at  the  same  time  the  absolute  refusal  to  give  men 
any  share  in  their  own  healing. 

In  like  manner,  remember  that  the  same  principle  is 
fiirther  established  because  our  faith  is  not  the  means  of 
our  cure,  but  only  the  bringing  of  our  sickness  into  con- 
tact with  the  means.  God's  love  in  Christ,  Christ's 
perfect  work  of  reconciliation,  Christ's  Spirit  poured 
out — these  be  the  energies  that  heal ;  our  faith  is  but 
lifting  the  eyelid  that  the  light  may  fill  the  eye,  but  open- 
ing the  door  that  the  physician  may  enter. 

And,  therefore,  because  there  is  not  a  crevice  in  the 
whole  process  where  self-trust  can  creep  through,  because 
firom  beginning  to  end  God  is  all  and  man  nought,  our 
hearts  rebel.  We  do  not  like  to  be  paupers.  We  know 
that  we  are  starving,  and  we  will  go  to  Him  for  com,  but 
we  like  to  take  our  money  in  our  sacks,  and  we  do  not 


XVII.]  PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT,  27 1 

like  to  open  them  and  find  them  filled  with  His  gift,  and 
our  poor  pieces  of  coin  lying  at  the  top.  We  will  barter 
or  buy  heaven,  but  we  had  rather  not  have  it  as  a  gift 
We  will  fast,  and  macerate  ourselves,  and  go  through  a 
dreary  round  of  observances,  which  are  all  the  same  in 
principle,  whether  we  fix  hooks  in  our  backs  and  swing 
from  them  at  festivals,  or  whether  we  have  Protestant 
penances — but  one  thing  we  will  not  do  if  we  can  help  it, 
and  that  is,  cast  ourselves  on  the  undeserved,  unbought 
mercy  of  God,  and  take  pardon,  and  peace,  and  heaven 
as  a  free  gift  If  the  prophet  will  only  bid  us  do  some 
great  thing,  we  will  try  to  do  it  But  if  he  says  to  us, 
"  wash  and  be  clean,"  we  turn  away.  We  are  ready  to 
spend  our  labour  for  that  which  satisfieth  not ;  but  when 
He  offers  us  wine  and  milk,  without  money  and  without 
price,  we  will  not  accept  it  on  such  terms. 

Brethren,  Christ's  work  for  us  must  be  all  in  all,  or 
not  at  all.  There  must  be  no  eking  out  ours  with  His ; 
no  saying,  "  Well,  I  do  as  well  as  I  can — and  for  the 
rest  I  will  trust  in  Christ!"  The  old  cannot  be  patched 
with  the  new  in  that  fashion.  You  must  throw  away  the 
rags,  and  let  Him  clothe  you  wholly  from  head  to  foot — 
not  in  your  own  righteousness,  completed  with  bits  of 
His — but  in  His  wholly — "  if  so  be  that  being  clothed  we 
may  not  be  found  naked"  Powerless  we  are,  but  He  is 
strong.  Sick,  but  He  is  the  healer.  Leprous,  but  He 
both  will  and  can  make  us  clean. 

It  is  the  glory  of  the  Gospel  that  it  proclaims  a  work  in 
which  we  have  no  share.  Christ  will  do  it  all.  Nay, 
Christ  has   done  it  all.     Listen  to  that  loud  shout  of 


27 2  PRIDE  OVERCOMING  WANT, 

victory  which  bursts  from  the  pall  of  eclipse  that  shrouds 
the  cross,  and  breaks  for  the  last  time  the  awful  silence. 
The  piteous  cry  had  been  heard — so  mysterious  and 
heavy  with  the  weight  of  men's  sin,  "  Why  hast  thou  for 
saken  me?"  But  the  last  word  is  as  the  triumphant  voice 
of  the  Conqueror,  who  bears  witness  to  Himself ;  and  His 
witness  is  true — "  It  is  finished,"  and  He  gave  up  the 
ghost.  "  Not  by  works  of  lighteousness,  but  by  his 
mercy  he  saved  us." 


273 


SERMON  XVIII. 

A  PATTERN   OF  PRAYER. 


Psalm  Ixxxri,  1-5. 

Bow  down  thine  car,  O  Lord,  hear  me  :  for  I  am  poor  and  needy. 
Preserve  my  soul ;  for  I  am  holy :  O  thou  my  God,  save  thy 
servant  that  tnisteth  in  thee.  Be  merciful  unto  me,  O  Lord  :  for  I 
cry  unto  thee  daily.  Rejoice  the  »oul  of  thy  servant :  for  unto  thee, 
O  Lord,  do  I  lift  up  my  souL  For  thou,  Lord,  art  good,  imd  ready 
to  foipTC ;  and  plenteooi  in  mercy  unto  all  them  that  call  upon 
thee. 

"'IITHEN  ye  pray,  xisc  not  yain  repetitions,  as  the 

'  •  heathen  da"  But  earnest  reiteration  is  not 
vain  repetition.  The  one  is  bom  of  doubt ;  the  other  of 
fe-ith.  The  prayer  that  springs  from  a  deep  felt  need,  and 
will  not  cease  till  that  need  is  supplied,  may  say  the  same 
things  over  a  hundred  times  and  yet  they  shall  not  be 
vain.  Rather,  as  the  same  blood  is  repeatedly  driven 
through  the  veins  by  the  contraction  and  dilating  of  the 
heart,  so  all  true  prayer  will  flow  forth  over  and  over 
again,  as  the  spirit  opens  in  yearning,  and  closes  itself  m 
calm  fruition  on  the  grace  it  has  received,  and  then  dilatei 
again  in  longing  and  sense  of  need.  So  the  Master,  who 
warned  us  against  the  paganism  of  empty  repetitions, 
3  s 


2  74  A  PATTERN  OF  I'RAYER,  [SERM. 

enjoined  upon  us  the  importunity  which  prevails ;  and  of 
Himself  it  is  written,  '*  And  he  left  them  and  went  away 
again  the  third  time,  sajdng  the  same  words." 

This  faithful  and  prevailing  reiteration  remarkably  char- 
acterizes the  striking  series  of  supplications  in  these  verses. 
Substantially  they  are  all  one ;  but  the  varying  phases  of 
the  one  wish  show  how  familiar  it  was  in  all  its  aspects  to 
his  mind ;  and  the  accumulation  of  them  is  the  token  of 
his  earnest  longing  and  profound  sense  of  need.  Like 
the  great  ancestor  of  his  nation,  he  wrestles  with  God 
and  prevails. 

The  whole  Psalm  is  apparently  of  late  date,  and 
abounds  with  quotations  from  earlier  songs — especially 
David's.  In  all  probability,  then,  we  have  here  a  devout 
man  in  later  ages,  breathing  out  his  cries  to  God,  and 
using,  as  we  do,  consecrated  words  of  earlier  Scripture, 
which  he  freely  reproduces  and  blends  with  his  own 
petitions.  That  is  no  sign  of  cold  artificial  prayer,  any 
more  than  our  petitions  are  to  be  so  regarded,  because 
they  often  flow  naturally  in  Bible  words,  which  are 
hallowed  by  many  associations,  and  using  which,  we  unite 
our  poor  lives  with  those  of  the  saints  of  old,  who  "  cried 
unto  God,  and  he  heard  them,  and  saved  them  out  of  all 
their  distresses." 

The  fulness  and  variety  of  these  petitions  deserve 
careful  consideration.  My  object  now  is  mainly  to  bring 
out  the  richness  of  meaning  which  lies  in  them.  Note 
the  invocations,  the  petitions,  and  the  pleas. 

I.   The  Invocations. 

I  suppose  there  are  few  parts  of  our  prayers,   dear 


XVIII.)  A  PA  TTERN  OF  PRA  YEK.  275 

brethren,  formal  as  they  all  tend  to  be,  which  are  more 
formal,  mechanical,  unmeaning,  than  our  repetition  of  the 
name  of  Him  to  whom  we  speaL  We  round  off  sentences 
with  it.  We  make  beginnings  of  our  prayers  with  it; 
we  finish  them  conventionally,  and  properly,  as  we  think, 
w^th  it ;  but,  if  we  rightly  understand  what  the  meaning 
is  of  that  element  of  the  prayer,  which  the  old  divines  in 
their  catechisms  call  invocation,  we  shall  understand  that 
it  is  the  foundation  of  all,  and  that  it  professes,  very 
distinctly,  a  faith  which  is  anything  but  formal.  For, 
when  we  call  upon  the  name  of  God,  if  we  do  it  aright, 
and  come  not  under  the  condemnation  of  that  command- 
ment, "  Thou  shalt  not  take  the  name  of  the  Lord  thy 
God  in  vain" — what  do  we  mean?  What  do  we  do 
thereby?  Three  things.  We  summon  up  before  our 
thoughts  that  aspect  of  the  Divine  character  which  lies 
in  the  name  that  we  utter.  We  do  not  pronounce  a  mere 
syllable.  We  utter  a  significant  word  that  tells  us  some- 
thing concerning  God ;  and,  when  we  use  it,  unless  the 
majestic  image  which  it  is  intended  to  flash  into  our  mind 
do  indeed  coruscate  and  glow  there,  we  had  better  be 
speaking  in  an  unknown  tongue,  than  \vith  an  unfruitful 
understanding.  Further,  we  profess  that  we  are  exercising 
an  act  of  faith  in  the  character  as  revealed  in  that  name. 
We  say  in  effect:  "This  aspect  of  thy  Divine  all- 
sufficiency,  this  fragment  of  thine  ineffable  perfection,  on 
this  I  build,  and  to  this  I  make  my  appeal."  Further, 
we  bring  before  God  His  o^vn  character  as  a  motive  with 
Him.  We  say  in  effect :  "  I  bring  thee  thyself,  and  in 
that  mighty  name,  for  the  sake  of  what  it  declares,  I  ask 


276  A  PATTERN  OF  PRAYER,  [SERIL 

that  these  goods  may  be  bestowed  upon  me."  So,  to  in- 
voke God  is  to  contemplate  His  character,  to  trust  in  that 
character  which  we  contemplate,  and  to  believe  that  He 
responds  to  the  obligations  that  are  involved  therein. 

If  that  then  be  the  general  idea  of  invocation,  we  may 
now  advance  to  notice  how  comprehensive  and  various 
are  the  names  by  which  the  Psalmist  here  calls  upon  his 
helper,  God,  and  steadies  his  own  confidence. 

In  general,  this  Psalm  is  remarkable  for  its  frequent  use 
of  the  Divine  names.  In  almost  every  verse  they  recur, 
and  their  fi-equency  gives  us  a  vivid  impression  of  earnest- 
ness, of  consciousness  of  need,  and  of  faith  so  sore  pressed 
that  it  could  only  sustain  itself  by  perpetual  renewal  of 
its  grasp  of  God.  Five  times  in  these  verses  of  our  text 
does  he  invoke  Him,  and  that  by  three  several  names — 
Jehovah,  my  God,  Lord.  These  three  sacred  names  have 
each  a  distinct  meaning  when  used  in  prayer ;  they  bring 
up  various  aspects  of  the  character  of  God  as  the  basis  of 
our  confidence,  and  the  ground  of  our  petitions. 

He  calls  on  Jehovah. 

As  to  that  first  name,  let  roe  remind  you  in  the  briefest 
possible  way  that  it  has  a  double  force  in  Scripture — one 
derived  fi-om  its  literal,  philological  meaning ;  the  other 
derived  firom  its  historical  use  and  development  Ai 
concerns  the  former  of  these  two,  as  we  all  know,  I 
suppose,  the  word  substantially  implies  eternal,  timeless 
being,  underived  self-existence.  His  name  is,  ^  I  am 
that  I  am,^  He,  who  is  and  was  and  shall  be,  the  one 
fontal  louice  of  all  transitory  and  creatural  life,  who 
**himidf  iminoyed  moveth  all  thing*."     And,  dieii»  tli* 


XVIIL]  a  pa  TTERN  of  PR  a  YER.  177 

name  derives  a  force  from  the  history  of  its  origin  and 
use.  It  was  given  as  the  seal  of  the  covenant,  as  the 
ground  of  the  great  deUverance  from  Egyptian  bondage. 
The  national  existence  rested  upon  it  The  vitality  oi 
Israel  was  guaranteed  by  the  eternity  of  Israel's  God. 
The  bush  that  burnt  and  was  not  consumed  was  the 
emblem  of  Him  who  gives  and  is  none  the  poorer,  who 
works  unwearied,  who  pours  forth  life  and  light  through 
all  ages  to  all  creatures,  and  diminishes  no  whit  the 
fulness  of  the  fountain  of  life  which  is  with  Him.  And 
that  undeca)dng,  inexhausted  being  is  the  pledge  of 
Israel's  security,  the  guarantee  that  "He  will  not  alter 
the  thing  that  is  gone  out  of  His  lips."  It  was  the  pledge 
and  the  basis  of  the  great  deliverance  which  made  Israel 
a  nation — it  was  a  name  that  expressed  God*s  purpose  to 
form  that  people  into  His  people,  who  should  show  forth 
His  praise. 

When  we  use  it  in  our  prayers  we  contemplate  and 
trust  in  and  plead  with  Him,  all  these  grand  thoughts 
of  eternal  subsistence,  inexhaustible  power,  unwearied 
strength,  resources  that  never  fail,  purposes  that  never 
alter,  a  being  that  never  fails,  a  nature  lifted  high  above 
the  mutations  of  time,  who  dwells  in  a  region  above  all 
tenses  and  moods,  and  />,  and  wasy  and  is  to  come  in  one 
ineffable  and  mysterious  present  Nor  only  so — but  we 
likewise  say — "  and  this  rock  of  ages  and  basis  of  all  that 
is,  hath  spoken  and  entered  into  the  bonds  of  love  and 
covenant  with  men,  whereby  they  can  plead  with  Him 
His  revealed  character,  and  appeal  to  Him  on  the  ground 
of  His  ancient  promise,  and  begin  all  their  believing 


278  A  PATTERN  OF  PRAYER.  [SERM. 

petitions  with  that  cry — O  Jehovah,  who  livest  for  ever- 
more; O  Jehovah,  the  God  of  the  covenant,  and  the 
deliverer  of  thy  people  ! " 

And,  further,  note  the  other  name  on  which  the 
Psalmist  rests  both  petitions  and  pleas,  "O  thou  my 
God:' 

I  need  only  remark  that,  so  far  as  its  own  proper  mean- 
ing is  concerned,  this  name  contains  only  what  one  might 
call  the  natural  conception  of  divinity,  as  distinguished 
from  the  former,  which  is  emphatically  the  name  of  the 
God  of  revelation.  The  word  implies  the  abundance  and 
fulness  of  power,  and  so  may  be  found,  and  often  is 
found,  on  the  lips  of  heathens.  It  contemplates  the 
Almightiness,  rather  than  the  moral  attributes  or  covenant 
relations  of  God,  as  the  ground  of  our  hopes. 

But  then,  note  how  this  general  conception,  which  in 
itself  does  not  travel  beyond  the  idea  common  to  all  men 
of  an  unseen  might  throned  in  the  heavens,  becomes 
special  on  the  Psalmist's  lips  by  the  little  word  which  he 
prefixes  to  it  "  my  God." 

So  far  as  we  can  judge  from  Scripture,  it  was  David 
who  first  ventured  to  claim  by  that  name  the  might  of  the 
God  of  Israel  for  his.  "  My  God  "  is  the  token  stamped 
upon  David's  Psalms.  The  warmth  of  personal  affection 
which  throbs  through  them,  and  the  firmness  of  personal 
confidence  are  wonderfiiUy  expressed  by  that  one  word, 
which  appropriates  the  strength  and  grace  of  the  covenant 
for  the  solace  of  the  single  souL 

Whether  this  Psalm  be  his,  or,  as  seems  most  probable, 
the  work  of  a  later  lover  of  God,  it  is  moulded  after  the 


XVIII.]  A  FA  TTERN  OF  FRA  YER.  2  7  9 

type  of  his  Psalms.  This  second  invocation  of  God 
uerives  its  force  from  that  one  word  which  contemplates 
the  unlimited  strength  and  Divine  loftiness  as  all  pos 
sessed  by,  and  enlisted  on  the  side  of  the  poor  soul  that 
cries  to  Him.  His  bold  and  reverent  hand  stretches  out 
to  grasp  the  whole  fulness  of  God.  Thou  art  the  God  of 
Israel,  the  God  of  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and  Jacob,  the 
God  of  the  whole  earth — but  thou  art  my  God,  mine  for 
my  faith,  mine  for  my  help. 

Then,  the  final  name  which  the  Psalmist  here  employs 
— **  Lord  " — is  not,  as  a  mere  English  reader  might  sup- 
pose, the  same  word  as  that  which  is  rendered  "  Lord  " 
in  the  first  verse.  That,  as  we  have  said,  is  Jehovah. 
This  means  just  what  our  English  word  "lord"  means; 
it  conveys  the  general  idea  of  authority  and  dominion. 
If  you  will  observe,  it  is  the  most  frequent  name  in  this 
Psalm.  Its  force  on  the  Psalmist's  lips,  and  the  thoughts 
which  he  associated  with  it,  may  be  gathered  from  suc- 
ceeding verses.  "Among  the  gods  there  is  none  like 
unto  thee,  O  Lord,  neither  are  there  any  works  like  unto 
thy  works  " — where  incomparable  elevation  and  supreme 
dominion  are  ascribed  to  Him.  So,  the  Psalmist  goes 
on,  "  All  nations  whom  diou  hast  made  shall  come  and 
worship  before  thee,  O  l-xjrd,  and  shall  glorify  thy  name, 
for  thou  art  great,"  where  the  thoughts  of  universal 
sovereignty,  and  exaltation  above  all  our  subject  little- 
ness, are  deduced  from  that  name. 

So,  then,  when  we  blend  all  tliese  together — it  is  as  if 
the  Psalmist  had  said,  "The  ever  living,  the  covenant 
Jehovah,  my  God  in  whom  I  claim  a  personal  interest, 


aSo  A  PA  TTERN  OP  PR  A  YER,  [SERM. 

who  loves  me  with  an  individualizing  love,  and  cares  for 
me  with  a  specific  care,  the  absolute  monarch  and  sove- 
reign of  the  whole  universe  is  He  to  whom  I  come  with 
my  supplication.  I  think  of  His  names,  I  trust  in  them, 
I  present  them  to  Him,  whom  they  all  but  partially 
declare;  and  I  ask  Him — for  His  own  name's  sake, 
because  of  what  He  is  and  hath  declared  Himself  to  be, 
to  hear  my  poor  cry,  to  answer  my  imperfect  fiaith,  to 
show  Himself  yet  once  again  that  which  His  name  hath 
from  of  old  proclaimed  Him  to  be." 

Dear  brethren,  for  us  to  know  and  trust  that  name  is 
the  highest  exercise  of  all  faith.  To  utter  it  believing  is 
the  very  essence  of  all  true  prayer.  Not  as  a  formal 
beginning  and  as  a  formal  close,  but  as  the  only  ground 
of  acceptance,  do  we  connect  it  with  our  petitions.  It 
should  begin  our  prayers  as  their  foundation,  it  should  end 
them  as  their  seal 

The  bare  utterance  of  a  name  may  be  the  purest 
formalism,  or  it  may  be  the  most  intense  faith.  The 
deepest  love  often  finds  that  all  language  fails,  and  that 
to  breathe  the  beloved  name  is  enough.  All  tenderness 
may  be  put  in  it — ^all  rapture,  all  praise.  Do  you  re- 
member the  wonderfiil  story  of  the  resurrection  morning  : 
"Jesus  said  unto  her,  Mary.  She  saith  unto  him 
Rabboni"?  Her  name  on  His  lips  was  enough  for 
unveiling  His  heart  and  revealing  His  person ;  His  name 
on  her  lips  was  enough  to  express  the  confession  of  her 
faith,  the  eager  rush  of  her  spirit  to  Him,  the  outpouring 
of  her  heart,  the  ecstacy  of  her  gladness  that  had  died 
with  Him  and  lived  now,  raised  again  fi-om  the  dead. 


XVIII.]  A  PATTERN  OF  PRAYER,  a8i 

Did  any  of  you,  parents,  ever  hear  your  child  wake 
from  sleep  with  some  panic  fear,  and  shriek  the  mother'^ 
name  through  the  darkness?  Was  not  that  a  more 
powerful  appeal  than  all  words  ?  And,  depend  upon  it, 
that  the  soul  which  cries  aloud  on  God,  "  the  God  and 
Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,"  though  it  have  "no 
language  but  a  cry,"  will  never  call  in  vain. 

II.  So  much  then  for  the  invocation,  and  now  a  word 
or  two  in  reference  to  tJie  petitions  which  these  verses 
give  us. 

As  I  have  said,  they  are  all  substantially  the  same,  and 
yet  they  so  vary  as  to  suggest  how  familiar  all  the  aspects 
of  the  deliverance  that  the  Psalmist  desired  were  to  him. 
We  may  discern,  I  think,  a  progress  of  thought  through 
them,  upon  which  I  touch  for  a  moment  The  petitions 
are — "Bow  thine  ear,"  "hear  me,"  "preserve  me,"  "save 
thy  servant,"  "  be  merciful  unto  me,"  "  rejoice  the  soul  of 
thy  servant."  There  is,  first,  the  cry  that  God  would 
hear,  the  basis  of  all  that  follows.  There  is  then  a  three- 
fold description  of  the  process  of  deliverance — "  preserve," 
"  save,"  "  be  merciful."  Then  there  is  a  longing  for  that 
which  comes  after  the  help,  a  consequence  of  the  hearing 
— "  Make  the  soul  of  thy  servant  glad." 

It  is  very  significant,  and  may  teach  us  some  lessons 
worth  learning,  that  the  Psalmist,  prior  to  all  special 
supplication,  begins  with  that  cry — "  Incline  thine  ear ; 
hear  me."  "What!"  you  say,  "does  not  God  know 
everything?"  "What  is  the  use  of  praying  to  an 
Omniscient  ear  to  hear?"  Yes,  no  doubt.  And  do  you 
think  that  what  I  may  call  the  cold,  passionless,  natural 


282  A  PATTERN  OF  PRAYER.  [si'x^M. 

knowledge  of  Omniscience  is  enough  for  our  hearts? 
Something  more  goes  to  the  "  hearing "  of  prayer  than 
the  necessary  omniscience  of  an  infinite  Divine  nature. 
There  is  an  act  of  loving  will,  which  is  most  clearly  con- 
veyed by  that  strong,  and  yet  plain  and  intelligible, 
metaphor,  ^^  Bow  down  thine  ear,"  as  an  eager  listener 
puts  his  hand  to  his  ear  and  bends  the  lobe  of  it  in  the 
direction  of  the  sound 

He  prays,  too,  in  that  petition,  for  what  we  may  call 
hearing  embodied  in  an  act  of  deliverance.  With  God,  to 
hear  is  to  answer.  As  soon  as  we  desire  He  knows  our 
longing  J  as  soon  as  He  knows  our  longing  He  meets  it 
with  His  gift  No  appreciable  time  is  occupied  in  the 
passage  of  the  imploring  message  from  earth  to  heaven, 
none  in  the  return  message  of  blessing  from  heaven  to 
earth.  As  David  says,  in  the  grand  Psalm  which  recounts 
his  deliverances,  "  My  cry  came  before  him,  even  imto 
his  ears.  Then^  the  earth  shook  and  trembled."  He 
hears  when  He  lovingly  regards  our  prayers ;  He  hears 
when  he  mightily  answers  our  cry — and  these  two  are 
one. 

The  Psalmist  further  prays  for  acts  of  help  and  deliver- 
ance,— "Preserve  my  soul;"  "save  thy  servant;"  "be 
merciful  unto  me."  These  petitions  are  all  substantially 
the  same ;  but  yet  there  are  shades  of  difference  between 
them  which  deserve  notice.  The  first  of  them  might  be 
rendered,  "guard"  or  "watch"  my  soul — and  that 
rendering  helps  us  to  distinguish  it  firom  the  others. 
Looking  at  all  three,  we  see  that  the  first  pra)rs  for  pro- 
tection;  the  second  goes  a  step  farther,  and  prays  for 


XVIII.]  A  FATTERN  OF  PRAYER.  283 

happy  issue  of  that  protection  in  safety;  and  the  third 
digs  deeper,  and  prays  for  that  mercy  which  is  the  sole 
foundation  of  both  the  protection  and  the  safety  which  it 
ensures.  God's  guardianship  achieves  our  salvation,  and 
His  saving  guardianship  is  the  fruit  of  His  mercy. 

While  these  three  petitions  then  differ  thus,  in  that 
they  contemplate  the  process  of  our  deliverance  in  its 
deepest  root,  in  its  patient  sedulous  method,  and  in  its 
hapi^y  end,  they  also  differ  in  that  they  embody  varying 
thoughts  of  the  need  and  weakness  of  the  suppliant.  In 
the  two  former  he  regards  himself  as  defenceless  and  in 
peril.  He  needs  a  great  hand  to  be  cast  round  him,  in 
the  hollow  of  which  he  may  be  safe.  His  soul  lies  open 
to  the  assaults  of  foes,  like  some  little  unwalled  village  in 
the  plains,  and  he  craves  the  garrison  and  guardianship 
of  God's  presence,  the  watchfulness  of  His  unslumbering 
eye.  In  the  last  he  thinks  of  himself  as  lowly  and  un- 
worthy— for  ** mercy"  is  love  shown  to  inferiors,  or  to 
those  who  deserve  something  else.  The  consciousness  of 
helplessness  has  become  a  consciousness  of  sin.  Pro- 
tection is  not  all  that  we  need.  There  must  be  pardon 
too.  That  hand  which  is  to  be  outstretched  to  guard  and 
save  might  justly  have  been  outstretched  to  smite.  The 
sole  ground  of  our  confidence  that  God  will  be  "our 
guard  while  troubles  last,"  and  \\ill  save  us  with  a  full 
salvation  at  the  last,  is  our  trust  that  He  will  not  refuse 
mercy  to  those  who  own  their  sin,  and  seek  it  through 
Jesus  Christ 

It  is  worth  notice,  too,  that  in  ail  this  variety  ol 
petitions  for  deliverance,  there  is  not  a  word  about  the 


284  A  FA TTERN  OF  PRA  YER.  [l 


exact  manner  of  it  The  way  in  which  God's  mercy  is 
to  guard  and  save  is  left,  with  meek  patience,  to  God's 
decision.  Let  us  not  prescribe  to  Him  the  path  which 
He  shall  take,  but  commit  that  to  His  own  loving  wisdom. 
There  are  two  methods  of  lightening  a  burden — one  is  to 
diminish  the  load,  the  other  is  to  strengthen  the  shoulders 
that  carry  it  The  latter  is  often  the  more  blessed — and 
often  the  shape  in  which  God  answers  our  prayer.  "  For 
this  thing  1  besought  the  Lord  thrice,  that  it  might 
depart  from  me.  And  he  said  unto  me,  My  grace  is 
sufficient  for  thee." 

Then,  in  the  final  petition,  the  Psalm  rises  still  higher, 
and  not  satisfied  with  imploring  that  God  would  hear, 
guard,  and  save — asks  for  gladness,  too,  "Rejoice  the 
soul  of  thy  servant" 

We  may  venture  to  ask  and  expect  gladness  if  we  are 
God's  servants.  All  His  creatures  have  a  claim  on  Him 
for  blessedness  according  to  their  capacity,  so  long  as 
they  stand  where  He  has  set  them — and  we,  who  have 
departed  from  that  obedience  which  is  joy,  may  yet,  in 
penitent  abasement,  return  to  Him  and  ask  that  He 
would  rejoice  the  soul  of  His  servant  David's  deepest 
repentance  dared  to  ask,  "Make  me  to  hear  joy  and 
gladness,  that  the  bones  which  thou  hast  broken  may 
rejoice."  Our  most  troubled  utterances  of  sore  need,  our 
sighs  and  groans,  should  be  accompanied  with  faith  which 
feels  the  summer's  sun  of  joy  even  in  the  mid- winter  of 
our  pain,  and  sees  vineyards  in  the  desert.  We  should 
beUeve  in,  and  hope,  and  ask  for  more  than  bare  deliver- 
ance— ^hard  though  it  be  to  think  that  gladness  is  any 


xviil]  a  pa  ttern  of  pra  yer,  285 

more  possible.  Blossoms  and  flowers  will  come  again, 
however  untimely  frosts  have  bumed  the  young  leaves 
into  brown  powder.  No  sorrow  is  so  crushing  and  hope- 
less, but  that  happiness  may  again  visit  the  heart,  where 
trust  and  love  abide.  Only  let  us  remember  that  this 
Psalm  seeks  for  joy,  where  it  seeks  for  help,  not  from 
earthly  sources,  but  from  God  Cisterns  may  be  broken, 
but  the  fountain  cannot  be  choked  up  with  their  ruins. 
They  who  find  their  deliverance  in  God  are  often  tempted 
to  find  their  pleasure  somewhere  else.  It  is  often  easier 
to  pray  with  tears,  "  Preserve  me  and  save  me,"  than  with 
undistracted  love  to  choose  Him  as  our  only  delight. 
But  the  true  devout  heart  turns  equally  to  God  for  all  it 
needs — and  its  prayer  ever  is,  "Judge  me,  O  God,  and 
plead  my  cause.  .  .  .  O  deliver  me — then  will  I  go 
unto  the  altar  of  God,  to  God,  the  gladness  of  my  joy." 

III.  Finally,  we  have  to  consider  the  pleas  on  which 
these  petitions  are  based. 

The  logic  of  prayer  here  is  very  remarkable  and  beauti- 
ful. Every  feature  of  the  Psalmist's  condition  and 
character,  as  well  as  all  that  he  knows  of  God,  becomes 
in  his  lips  a  reason  with  God  for  granting  his  prayer. 
The  same  ingenuity  of  faith,  if  one  might  use  such  a 
phrase,  which  that  S}TO-Phcenician  woman  showed  when 
she  laid  hold  of  the  apparent  repulse  of  her  suit,  and 
gave  back  to  Christ  His  own  parable  as  a  reason  for  His 
compliance — comes  out  here. 

These  pleas  part  into  three.  He  pleads  his  necessities. 
He  is  "poor  and  needy,"  or  rather,  perhaps — giving  a 
distinct  meaning  to  each  word — "  afflicted  and  poor," 


2 86  A  PATTERN  OF  PRAYER.  [SERM. 

borne  down  by  the  pressure  of  outward  calamity,  and 
destitute  of  inward  resources.  So  the  one  phase  of  our 
need  is  the  evils  that  oppress  us  from  without,  and  the 
other  is  the  lack  of  power  from  within  to  bear  up 
against  these.  Circumstances  and  character  both  con- 
stitute an  appeal  to  God.  Or,  more  simply,  we  are 
weighed  upon  with  sore  distress,  and  we  are  likewise 
beggared  of  all  means  either  without  or  within. 

Yes,  brethren,  by  God's  mercy  we  are  emboldened  to 
take  our  weakness,  our  helplessness,  as  pleas  with  Him. 
We  know  how  often  the  sight  of  misery  touched  the 
heart  of  Christ,  and  how  He  was  "moved  with  com- 
passion," and  we  believe  that  the  compassion  of  Christ  is 
our  truest  image  of  the  pity  of  our  God.  The  yawning 
emptiness  of  our  parched  heiurts,  thirsting  for  God,  like 
the  cracked  ground  in  drought,  is  a  plea  with  Him.  And 
when  we  draw  near  to  His  throne,  we  do  not  need  to 
present  our  raerits  but  our  necessities  in  order  to  receive 
the  answer.  "  Lord  save,  we  perish,"  is  our  best  cry  to 
awaken  to  energy  the  hand  that  never  sleeps.  Let  no 
consciousness  of  evil  drive  us  from  Him,  but  rather  let  it 
impel  us  dose  to  Him.  The  devil's  lie  is  that  we  ai^  too 
bad  to  go  to  Him.  The  truth  is  that  our  necessities — 
aye  and  our  sins  too — may  be  made  pleas  with  Him. 
"  Pardon  mine  iniquity,  for  ii  is  very  greats 

He  pleads  his  relation  to  God  and  his  longing  for  torn- 
munion  with  Him. 

"I  am  holy."  That  sounds  strange.  There  is  a 
flavour  of  self-righteousness  about  it  which  startlea  one. 
But  there  is  no  such  thought  in  the  wordy  and  the  "holy* 


XVIII.]  A  PATTERN  OF  FKAYER.  287 

of  the  English  version  completely  obscures  the  Psalmist's 
thought.  It  will  be  enough  here  to  say  that  the  word  of 
the  original  simpl}-  means  "one  who  is  a  recipient  or 
object  of  mercy."  It  is  passive,  not  active,  in  signification. 
Of  course  the  mercy  meant  is  God's  mercy,  so  that  the 
meaning  is  as  our  Bible  has  it  in  the  margin,  ''One  whom 
thou  favourest."  The  plea  then  here  is  drawn,  not  from 
the  righteousness  of  the  man,  but  from  the  mercy  of  God. 
It  sets  forth  the  relation  between  God  and  His  suppliant 
from  the  Divine  side,  and  pleads  God's  gracious  bestowal 
of  mercy  upon  him  in  the  past  as  a  reason  for  its  con- 
tinuance and  perfecting.  "Thou  hast  been  pleased  to 
love  and  favour  me,  to  enrich  me  with  thy  grace.  Be 
what  thou  hast  been :  do  what  thou  hast  done :  forsake 
not  the  work  of  thine  own  hands."  And  God,  who  begins 
no  buildings  which  He  is  not  able  to  finish,  recognizes 
the  strength  of  the  plea — and  will  perfect  that  which  con- 
cemeth  us. 

There  follows  the  same  relation  contemplated  firora  the 
human  side,  and  that,  too,  is  a  plea  ^ith  Ckxi.  "  Thy 
servant  that  tnisteth  in  thee."  I  am  knit  to  Thee,  as  a 
servant  I  belong  to  Thy  huusehold,  and  the  Master's 
honour  is  concerned  in  His  dependent's  safety.  The 
slave  is  cared  for  by  His  Lord.  I  belong  to  Thee — do 
thou  watch  over  what  is  thine  own.  I  trust  in  Thee. 
We  do  not  plead  oiu^  faiih  as  constituting  a  claim  of  merit 
with  God,  but  as  constituting  a  plea  with  Him.  It  is  not 
that  it  deserves  deliverance — else  we  might  well  hesitate 
to  urge  it,  when  we  think  of  its  weakness  and  often  inter- 
roptioas — but  thiit  it  is  sure  to  bring  deliverance.     Foi 


288  A  PA  TTERN  OF  PR  A  YER,  [serm. 

anything  is  possible  rather  than  that  the  most  tremulous 
trust  should  go  unblest  and  unanswered. 

The  human  side  of  the  relation  between  God  and  Hia 
servant  is  further  urged  in  the  subsequent  clauses  which 
refer  to  the  Psalmist's  longings  and  efforts  after  fellowship 
with  God  "  I  cry  unto  thee  daily " — ^he  does  not  think 
that  his  cry  deserves  an  answer,  but  he  knows  that  in 
God's  great  mercy  He  has  bound  Himself  to  "  hear  our 
cry  and  save  us  " ;  and  he  appeals  to  the  faithful  promise. 
He  has  put  in  practice  the  condition,  and  he  expects  the 
answer.  It  cannot  but  be  that  he  who  calls  on  God  will 
be  answered.  Anything  is  credible  rather  than  that  our 
prayer  ascending  should  be  flung  back  unanswered,  as  if 
it  had  struck  against  heavens  which  were  brass.  Let  our 
faith  clasp  His  promise,  and  then  the  fact  of  our  prayer  is 
with  God  a  plea,  and  with  us  a  pledge  of  His  answer. 
Let  us  not  doubt  that  we  do  wield  power  with  God  when 
we  pray — and  we  shall  prevail. 

Again  he  pleads,  "  Unto  thee  do  I  lift  up  my  soul."  That 
expresses  the  conscious  effort  to  raise  his  whole  being 
above  earth,  to  lift  the  heavy  grossness  of  his  nature, 
bound  in  the  fetters  of  sense  to  this  low  world,  up  and 
up  to  the  Most  High  who  is  his  home.  And  can  it  be 
that  that  yearning  and  striving  after  communion  shall  go 
unsatisfied?  Is  it  possible  that  I  shall  stretch  out  feeling 
hands  and  grope  in  vain  for  God  ?  Is  it  possible  that 
He  shall  not  take  note  of  me,  that  my  poor  faith  shall  be 
disappointed,  that  my  prayer  shall  be  lost  in  empty 
space,  that  my  soul  shall  not  find  its  Rest?  Never. 
**  What  man  is  there  of  you,  whom  if  his  son  ask  bread, 


XVIII.]  A  PA  TTERN  OF  PRA  YER.  289 

will  he  give  him  a  stone  ? — How  much  more  shall  your 
Father  which  is  in  heaven  give  good  things  to  them 
that  ask  him  ?" 

And,  finally,  because  our  necessities,  and  our  desires 
derive  their  force  as  pleas  from  God's  own  character,  he 
urges  that  as  his  last  and  mightiest  appeal.  He  began 
with  invocation,  and  he  ends  as  he  began.  The  name 
of  God  is  the  ground  of  all  our  hope,  and  the  motive  for 
all  His  mercy.  Turn  away,  brethren,  from  all  thoughts 
of  self,  of  your  own  needs,  of  your  own  trust,  and  prayer, 
and  aspiration.  Forsaking  all  other  confidence,  flee  to 
that  "  name  of  the  Lord,"  into  which,  as  "  a  strong 
tower,"  we  may  "  run  and  be  safe."  The  one  prevalent 
plea  with  God  is  the  faithful  recounting  of  all  that  grace 
and  pity  which  He  is  and  has  exercised.  All  others  are 
subordinate,  and  possess  only  a  power  bestowed  by  this. 
"  For  thou.  Lord,  art  good,  and  ready  to  forgive ;  and 
plenteous  in  mercy  unto  all  them  that  call  upon  thee." 
Our  need  is  the  occasion;  our  faith  and  desire  the 
channel ;  but  Himself  is  the  reason,  as  Himself  is  the 
source,  of  all  our  deliverance  and  all  our  salvation. 
"  Because  he  could  sware  by  no  greater,  he  sware  by 
himself" — and  because  we  can  pray  by  none  other,  we 
implore  Him  by  Himself,  for  the  sake  of  His  own  Holy 
Name,  because  He  is  that  He  is,  to  have  mercy  upon  us 
who  cry  to  Him. 

And,  brethren,  when  we  call  on  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ  our  Lord,  and  ask  that  our  prayers  may  be  heard 
"  for  the  sake  of  Christ,"  we  are  taking  no  other  plea 
into  our  lips  than  that  ancient  and  all  prevalent  one  of 

3 


290  A  FA  TTERN  OF  PRA  YER, 

this  Psalm.  It  is  His  own  mercy  in  Christ  which  we 
present.  It  is  the  work  of  His  own  love  which  we  bring 
as  our  plea.  "I  have  declared  thy  name  unto  my 
brethren."  Christ  is  the  Revealer  of  the  Father's  name, 
and  they  who  pray  in  the  name  of  Christ  have  for  their 
confidence  this  promise,  "  Whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  in 
my  name,  that  will  I  do,  that  the  Father  may  be  glori- 
fied in  the  Son  " — and  this,  "  ^Vhatsoever  ye  shall  ask 
tl\e  Father  in  my  name,  he  will  give  it  you." 


291 
SERMON     XIX. 

THE    TOILING    CHRIST. 


Mark  iv,  36—38. 

TTiey  took  him  even  as  he  was  in  the  ship And  he  was  in  the 

hinder  part  of  the  ship,  asleep  on  a  pillow. 

A  MONG  the  many  loftier  characteristics  belonging  to 

Christ's  life  and  work,  there  is  a  very  homely  one 

which  is  often  lost  sight  of;  and  that  is,  the  amount  of 

hard  physical  exertion,  prolonged   even  to   fatigue   and 

exhaustion,  which  He  endured 

Christ  is  our  pattern  in  a  great  many  other  things  more 
impressive  and  more  striking ;  and  He  is  our  pattern  in 
this,  that  "  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow  "  He  did  His  work, 
and  knew  not  only  what  it  was  to  suffer,  but  what  it  was 
to  toil  for  man's  salvation.  And,  perhaps,  if  we  thought 
a  little  more  than  we  do  of  such  a  prosaic  characteristic 
of  His  life  as  that,  it  might  invest  it  with  some  more 
reality  for  us,  besides  teaching  us  other  large  and  import- 
ant lessons. 

I  have  thrown  together  these  two  clauses  for  our  text 
now,  simply  for  the  sake  of  that  one  feature  which  they 
both  portray  so  strikingly. 


292  THE  TOILING  CHRIST  [SERM. 

"  They  took  him  even  as  he  was  into  the  ship."  And 
many  expositors  suppose  that  in  the  very  form  of  that 
phrase  there  is  suggested  the  extreme  of  weariness  and 
exhaustion  which  He  suffered,  after  the  hard  day's  toil. 
Whether  that  be  so  or  no,  the  swiftness  of  the  move  to 
the  little  boat,  although  there  was  nothing  in  the  nature 
of  danger  or  of  imperative  duty  to  hurry  them  away,  and 
His  going  on  board  without  a  moment's  preparation, 
leaving  the  crowd  on  the  beach,  seem  most  naturally 
accounted  for  by  supposing  that  He  had  come  to  the 
last  point  of  physical  endurance,  and  that  His  frame,  worn 
out  by  the  hard  day's  work,  needed  one  thing — rest. 

And  so,  the  next  thing  that  we  see  of  Him  is  that,  as 
soon  as  He  gets  into  the  ship  He  falls  fast  asleep  on  the 
wooden  pillow — a  hard  bed  for  His  head  ! — in  the  stem 
of  the  little  fishing  boat,  and  there  He  lies  so  tired — let  us 
put  it  into  plain  prose  and  strip  away  the  false  veil  of  big 
words  with  which  we  invest  that  nature — so  tired  that  the 
storm  does  not  awake  Him;  and  they  have  to  come  to  Him, 
and  lay  their  hands  upon  Him,  and  say  to  Him,  "  Master, 
carest  thou  not  that  we  perish?"  before  compassion  again 
beat  back  fatigue,  and  quickened  Him  for  fresh  exertions. 

This,  then,  is  the  one  lesson  I  want  to  consider  now, 
and  there  are  three  points  which  I  deal  with  in  pursuance 
of  my  task.  I  wish  to  point  out  a  little  more  in  detail 
the  signs  that  we  have  in  the  Gospel  of  this  characteristic 
of  Christ's  work — the  toilsomeness  of  His  service ;  then 
to  consider,  secondly,  the  motives  which  He  himself  tells 
us  impelled  to  such  service ;  and  then,  finally,  the  worth 
which  that  toil  bears  for  us. 


KIX.]  THE  TOILING  CHRIST.  293 

I.  First,  then,  let  me  point  out  some  of  the  significant 
hints  which  the  Gospel  records  give  us  of  the  toilsomeness 
of  Chris  fs  service. 

Now  we  are  principally  indebted  for  these  to  this 
Gospel  by  Mark,  which  ancient  tradition  has  set  forth  as 
being  especially  and  eminently  the  "  Gospel  of  the  servant 
of  God,"  therein  showing  a  very  accurate  conception  of 
its  distinguishing  characteristics.  Just  as  Matthew's 
Gospel  is  the  Gospel  of  the  King,  regal  in  tone  from 
beginning  to  end;  just  as  Luke's  is  the  Gospel  of  the 
man,  human  and  universal  in  its  tone ;  just  as  John's 
Gospel  is  the  Gospel  of  the  Eternal  Word,  so  Mark's  is 
the  Gospel  of  the  servant.  The  inscription  written  over 
it  all  might  be,  "  Lo,  I  come  to  do  thy  will,  O  God." 
"  Behold  my  servant  whom  I  uphold." 

And  if  you  will  take  this  briefest  of  all  the  Gospels,  and 
read  it  over  from  that  point  of  view,  you  will  be  surprised 
to  discover  what  a  multitude  of  minute  traits  make  up  the 
general  impression,  and  what  a  unity  is  thereby  breathed 
into  the  narrative. 

For  instance,  did  you  ever  observe  the  peculiar 
beginning  of  this  Gospel.  There  are  here  none  of  the 
references  to  the  prophecies  of  the  King,  no  tracing  of 
His  birth  through  the  royal  stock  to  the  great  progenitor 
of  the  nation,  no  adoration  by  the  Eastern  sages,  which 
we  find  in  Matthew,  no  miraculous  birth  nor  growing 
childhood  as  in  Luke,  no  profound  unveiling  of  the  union 
of  the  Word  with  God  before  the  world  was,  as  in  John, 
but  the  narrative  begins  with  His  baptism,  and  passes  at 
once  to  the  stoiy  of  His  work.     The  same  ruling  idea 


294  THE  TOILING  CHRIST.  [SERM. 

accounts  for  the  uniform  omission  of  the  title  "Lord," 
which  in  Mark's  Gospel  is  never  applied  to  Christ  until 
after  the  resurrection.  There  is  only  one  apparent 
exception,  and  there  good  authorities  pronounce  the 
word  to  be  spurious.  Even  in  reports  of  conversations 
which  are  also  given  in  the  other  Gospels,  and  where 
"  Lord "  occurs,  Mark,  of  set  purpose,  omits  it,  as  if  its 
presence  would  disturb  the  unity  of  the  impression  which 
he  desires  to  leave.  You  will  find  the  investigation  of 
the  omissions  in  this  Gospel  fiiU  of  interest,  and  remark- 
ably tending  to  confirm  the  accuracy  of  the  view  which 
regards  it  as  the  Gospel  of  the  servant 

Notice  then  these  traits  of  His  service  which  it  brings 
out 

The  first  of  them  I  would  suggest  is — ^how  distinctly 
it  gives  the  impression  of  swift^  strenuous  work.  The 
narrative  is  brief  and  condensed.  We  feel,  all  through 
these  earlier  chapters  at  all  events,  the  presence  of  the 
pressing  crowd  coming  to  Him  and  desiring  to  be  healed. 
And  but  a  word  can  be  spared  for  each  incident  as  the 
story  hurries  on,  trying  to  keep  pace  with  His  rapid 
service  of  quick-springing  compassion  and  undelaying  help. 
There  is  one  word  which  is  reiterated  over  and  over 
again  in  these  earlier  chapters,  remarkably  conveying  this 
impression  of  haste  and  strenuous  work.  Mark's  favourite 
word  is  "straightway,"  "immediately,"  "forthwith," 
"anon,"  which  are  all  translations  of  one  expression. 
You  will  find,  if  you  glance  over  the  first,  second,  or  third 
chapters  at  your  leisure,  that  it  comes  in  at  every  turn. 
Take  these  instances  which  strike  one's  eye    at    the 


XIX.]  THE  TOILING  CHRIST,  295 

moment,  "  Straightway  they  forsook  their  nets ; " 
"  Straightway  he  entered  into  the  synagogue ; "  "  Im- 
mediately his  fame  spread  abroad  throughout  all  the 
region;"  ^^ Forthwith  they  entered  into  the  house  of 
Simon's  mother;"  ^'' Ation,  they  tell  him  of  her;"  ^^Im- 
mediately the  fever  left  her."  And  so  it  goes  on  through 
the  whole  story,  a  picture  of  a  constant  succession  of 
rapid  acts  of  mercy  and  love.  The  story  seems,  as  it 
were,  to  pant  with  haste  to  keep  up  with  Him  as  He 
moves  among  men,  swift  as  the  sunbeam,  and  continuous 
in  the  outflow  of  His  love  as  these  unceasing  rays  1 

Again,  we  see  in  Christ's  service,  toil  prolonged  to  the 
point  of  actual  physical  exhaustion.  The  narrative  before 
us  is  the  most  striking  instance  of  that  which  we  meet 
with.  It  had  been  a  long  wearying  day  of  work. 
According  to  this  chapter,  the  whole  of  the  profound 
parables  concerning  the  kingdom  of  God  had  immediately 
preceded  the  embarkation.  But  even  these,  with  their 
explanation,  had  been  but  a  part  of  that  day's  labours. 
For,  in  Matthew's  account  of  them,  we  are  told  that  they 
were  spoken  on  the  same  day  as  that  on  which  His 
mother  and  brethren  came  desiring  to  speak  with  Him,- — 
or,  as  we  elsewhere  read,  with  hostile  intentions  to  lay 
hold  on  Him  as  mad  and  needing  restraint.  And  that 
event,  which  we  may  well  believe  touched  deep  and 
painful  chords  of  feeling  in  His  human  heart,  and  excitec 
emotions  more  exhausting  than  much  physical  effort, 
occurred  in  the  midst  of  an  earnest  and  prolonged  debate 
with  emissaries  from  Jerusalem,  in  the  course  of  which 
He   spoke   the    solemn    words    concerning    blasphemy 


296  THE   TOILING  CHRIST,  [SERM. 

against  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  Satan  casting  out  Satan,  and 
poured  forth  some  of  His  most  terrible  warnings,  and 
some  of  His  most  beseeching  entreaties.  No  wonder 
that,  after  such  a  day,  the  hard  pillow  of  the  boat  was  a 
soft  resting-place  for  His  wearied  head ;  no  wonder  that, 
as  the  evening  quiet  settled  down  on  the  mountain-girdled 
lake,  and  the  purple  shadows  of  the  hills  stretched 
athwart  the  water,  He  slept ;  no  wonder  that  the  storm 
which  followed  the  sunset  did  not  wake  Him;  and  beauti- 
ful, that  wearied  as  He  was,  their  cry  at  once  rouses  Him, 
and  the  fatigue  which  marks  His  manhood  gives  place  to 
the  Divine  energy  which  says  unto  the  sea,  "  Peace  !  be 
stilL"  The  lips  which  a  moment  before  had  been  parted 
in  the  soft  breathing  of  wearied  sleep,  now  open  to  utter 
the  omnipotent  word — so  wonderfully  does  He  blend  the 
human  and  the  Divine,  ''  the  form  of  a  servant "  and  the 
nature  of  God. 

We  see,  in  Christ,  toil  that  puts  aside  the  claims  of 
physical  wants.  Twice  in  this  Gospel  we  read  of  this. 
"The  multitude  cometh  together  again,  so  that  they 
could  not  so  much  as  eat  bread."  "  There  were  many 
coming  and  they  had  no  leisure  so  much  as  to  eat" 

We  see  in  Christ's  service  a  love  which  is  at  every 
man^s  beck  aftd  call,  a  toil  cheerfully  rendered  at  the  most 
unreasonable  and  unseasofiable  times.  As  I  said  a  moment 
or  two  ago,  this  Gospel  makes  you  feel,  as  none  other 
of  these  narratives  do,  the  pressure  of  that  ever-present 
multitude,  the  whirling  excitement  that  there  was  round 
the  calm  centre.  It  tells  us,  for  instance,  more  than  once 
how  Christ,  wearied  with  His  toil,  feeling  in  body  and  in 


XIX.]  THE   TOILING  CHRIST,  297 

spirit  the  need  of  rest  and  still  communion,  withdrew 
Himself  from  the  crowd.  He  departed  alone  once  that 
He  might  seek  God  in  prayer ;  once  He  went  with  His 
wearied  disciples  apart  into  a  desert  place  to  rest  awhile. 
On  both  occasions  the  retirement  is  broken  in  upon  be- 
fore it  is  well  begun.  The  sigh  of  relief  in  the  momentary 
rest  is  scarcely  drawn,  and  the  burden  laid  down  for  an 
instant,  when  it  has  to  be  lifted  again.  His  solitary  prayer 
is  broken  m  upon  by  the  disciples,  with  "  All  men  seek  for 
thee,"  and  without  a  murmur  or  a  pause,  He  buckles  to 
His  work  again,  and  says,  "  Let  us  go  into  the  next  towns 
that  I  may  preach  there  also  :'for  therefore  am  I  sent" 

When  He  would  carry  His  wearied  disciples  with  Him 
for  a  brief  breathing  time  to  the  other  side  of  the  sea, 
and  get  away  from  the  thronging  crowd,  "  the  people  saw 
Him  departing,"  and  ran  afoot  out  of  all  cities,  and  mak- 
ing their  way  round  the  head  of  the  lake,  were  all  there 
at  the  landing-place  before  Him.  Instead  of  seclusion 
and  repose,  here  was  the  same  throng  and  bustle.  Here 
they  were,  most  of  them  from  mere  curiosity,  some  of 
them  no  doubt  with  deeper  feelings ;  here  they  were  with 
their  diseased  and  their  demoniacs,  and  as  soon  as  His 
foot  touches  the  shore  He  is  in  the  midst  of  it  all  again. 
And  He  meets  it,  nU  with  impatience  at  this  rude  intru- 
sion on  His  privacy,  not  with  refusals  to  help.  But  one 
emotion  filled  His  heart  He  forgets  all  about  weari- 
ness, and  hunger,  and  retirement,  and  "  He  was  moved 
with  compassion  towards  them,  because  they  were  as 
sheep,  not  having  a  shepherd,  and  He  began  to  teach 
them  many  things.'     Such  a  picture  may  well  shame  our 


298  THE  TOILING  CHRIST.  [SERM. 

languid,  self-indulgent  service,  may  stir  us  to   imitation 
and  to  grateful  praise. 

There  is  only  one  other  point  which  I  touch  upon  for 
a  moment,  as  showing  the  toil  of  Christ,  and  that  is 
drawn  from  another  Gospel. 

Did  you  ever  notice  the  large  space  occupied  in 
Matthew's  Gospel  by  the  record  of  the  last  day  of  His 
public  ministry,  and  how  much  of  all  that  we  know  of 
His  mission  and  message,  and  the  future  of  the  world 
and  of  all  men,  we  owe  to  the  teaching  of  these  four-and- 
twenty  hours?  Let  me  put  together  in  a  word  what 
happened  on  that  day. 

It  included  the  conversation  \\dth  the  chief  priests  and 
elders  about  the  baptism  of  John,  the  parable  of  the 
householder  that  planted  a  vineyard  and  digged  a  wine- 
press, the  parables  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  the  con- 
troversy with  the  Herodians  about  the  tribute  money,  the 
conversation  with  the  Sadducees  about  the  resurrection, 
with  the  Pharisee  about  the  great  commandment  in  the 
law,  the  silencing  of  the  Pharisees  by  pointing  to  the 
hundred  and  tenth  Psalm,  the  warning  to  the  multitude 
of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees  who  were  hypocrites,  pro- 
tracted and  prolonged  up  to  that  wail  of  disappointed 
love,  "Behold  your  house  is  left  unto  you  desolate." 
And,  as  though  that  had  not  been  enough  for  one  day, 
when  He  is  going  home  from  the  temple  to  find,  for  a 
night,  in  that  quiet  little  home  of  Bethany,  the  rest  that 
He  wants,  as  He  rests  wearily  on  the  slopes  of  Olivet, 
the  disciples  come  to  Him,  "Tell  us  when  shall  these 
things  be?  and  what  shall  be  the  sign  of  thy  coming?" 


XIX.]  THE    TOILING  CHRIST,  299 

and  there  follows  all  that  wonderful  prophecy  of  the 
destruction  of  Jerusalem  and  the  end  of  the  world,  the 
parable  of  the  fig  tree,  the  warning  not  to  suffer  the  thief 
to  come,  and  the  promise  of  reward  for  the  faithful  and 
wise  servant,  the  parable  of  the  ten  virgins,  and  in  all 
probability  the  parable  of  the  king  with  the  five  talents ; 
and  the  words  that  might  be  ^v^itten  in  letters  of  fire, 
that  tell  us  the  final  course  of  all  things,  and  the  judg- 
ment of  life  eternal  and  death  everlasting  !  All  that  was 
the  work  of  "  one  of  the  days  of  the  Son  of  Man."  Of 
Him  it  was  prophesied  long  ago,  "  For  Jerusalem's  sake 
I  will  not  rest:"  and  His  life  on  earth,  as  well  as  His 
life  in  heaven,  fulfils  the  prediction — the  one  by  the  toil- 
someness  of  His  service,  the  other  by  the  unceasing 
energy  of  His  exalted  power.  He  toiled  unwearied  here. 
He  works  unresting  there. 

II.  In  the  second  place,  let  me  ask  you  to  notice  how 
we  get  from  our  Lord's  own  words  a  glimpse  into  the 
springs  of  this  wonderful  activity. 

There  are  three  points  which  distinctly  come  out  in 
various  places  in  the  Gospels  as  His  motives  for  such  un- 
resting sedulousness  and  continuance  of  toil.  The  first  is 
conveyed  by  such  words  as  these :  "  I  must  work  the 
works  of  him  that  sent  me."  "  Let  us  preach  to  other 
cities,  also  :  for  therefore  am  I  sent."  "  Wist  ye  not  that 
I  must  be  about  my  Father's  business?"  "My  meat 
is  to  do  the  will  of  him  that  sent  me,  and  to  finish  his 
work."  All  these  express  one  thought.  Christ  lived  and 
toiled,  and  bore  weariness  and  exhaustion,  and  counted 
every  moment  as  worthy  to  be  garnered  up  and  precious. 


300  THE  TOILING  CHRIST.  [SERM, 

as  to  be  filled  with  deeds  of  love  and  kindness,  because 
wherever  He  went,  and  whatsoever  He  set  His  hand  to, 
He  had  the  one  consciousness  of  a  great  task  laid  upon 
Him  by  a  loving  Father  whom  He  loved,  and  whom, 
therefore,  it  was  His  joy  and  His  blessedness  to  serve. 

And,  remember,  that  motive  made  the  life  homogen- 
eous— of  a  piece  j  and  in  all  the  variety  of  service,  one 
spirit  was  expressed,  and,  therefore,  the  service  was  one. 
No  matter  whether  He  were  speaking  words  of  grace  or 
of  rebuke,  or  working  works  of  power  and  love,  or  simply 
looking  a  look  of  kindness  on  some  outcast,  or  taking  a 
little  child  in  His  arms,  or  stilling  with  the  same  arms 
outstretched  the  wild  uproar  of  the  storm — it  was  all  the 
same.  To  Him  life  was  all  one.  There  was  nothing 
great,  nothing  small;  nothing  so  insignificant  that  it  could 
be  done  negligently ;  nothing  so  hard  that  it  surpassed 
His  power.  The  one  motive  made  all  duties  equal; 
obedience  to  the  Father  called  forth  His  whole  energy  at 
every  moment.  To  Him  life  was  not  divided  into  a  set 
of  tasks  of  varying  importance,  some  of  which  could  be 
accomplished  with  a  finger's  touch,  and  some  of  which 
demanded  a  dead  lift  and  strain  of  all  the  muscles.  But 
whatsoever  His  hand  found  to  do  He  did  with  His  might; 
and  that  because  He  felt,  be  it  big  or  little,  that  it  all 
came,  if  I  may  so  say,  into  the  day's  work,  and  all  was 
equally  great  because  "  the  Father  that  sent  him  had  laid 
it  upon  Him." 

There  is  one  thing  that  makes  life  mighty  in  its  veriest 
trifles,  worthy  in  its  smallest  deeds,  that  delivers  it  firom 
monotony,  that  delivers  it  from  insignificance.    All  will 


XIX.]  THE  TOILING  CHRIST,  30 1 

be  great,  and  nothing  will  be  overpowering,  when  living 
in  communion  with  Jesus  Christ,  we  say  as  he  says,  "  My 
meat  is  to  do  the  will  of  him  that  sent  me." 

And  then,  still  further,  another  of  the  secret  springs 
that  move  His  unwearied  activity.  His  heroism  of  toil,  is 
the  thought  expressed  in  such  words  as  these  : — "  While 
I  am  in  the  worid  I  am  the  light  of  the  worid."  "  I  must 
wrork  the  works  of  him  that  sent  me  while  it  is  day;  the 
night  Cometh  when  no  man  can  work." 

Jesus  Christ  manifested  on  earth  performs  indeed  a 
work — the  mightiest  which  He  came  to  do — which  was 
done  precisely  then  when  the  night  did  come — namely, 
the  work  of  His  death,  which  is  the  atonement  and 
propitiation  for  the  sins  of  the  world.  And,  further,  the 
night,  when  no  man  can  work,  was  not  the  end  of  His 
activity  for  us ;  for  He  carries  on  His  work  of  intercession 
and  rule,  His  work  of  bestowing  the  gifts  purchased  by 
His  blood,  amidst  the  glories  of  heaven;  and  that  per- 
petual application  and  dispensing  of  the  blessed  issues  of 
His  death  He  has  Himself  represented  as  greater  than 
the  works  to  which  His  death  put  a  period,  when  He 
healed  the  bodies  and  spoke  to  the  hearts  of  those  whi^ 
heard,  and  lived  a  perfect  life  here  upon  this  sinful  earth 
But  yet  even  He  recognized  the  brief  hour  of  sunny  life 
as  being  an  hoiu:  that  must  be  filled  with  service,  and 
recognized  the  fact  that  there  was  a  task  that  He  could 
only  do  when  He  lived  the  life  of  a  man  upon  earth. 
And  so,  if  I  might  so  say.  He  was  a  miser  of  the  moments, 
and  carefully  husbanding  and  garnering  up  every  capacity 
and  every  opportunity,  He  toiled  with  the  toil  of  a  man 


302  THE  TOILING  CHRIST.  [sERM. 

who  has  a  task  before  him,  that  must  be  done  when  the 
clock  strikes  six,  and  who  sees  the  hands  move  over  the 
dial,  and  by  every  glance  that  he  casts  at  it  is  stimulated 
to  intenser  service  and  to  harder  toil.  Christ  felt  that 
impulse  to  service  which  we  all  ought  to  feel.  "The 
night  Cometh  ;  let  me  fill  the  day  with  work." 

And  then  there  is  a  final  motive  which  I  need  barely 
touch.  He  was  impelled  to  His  sedulous  service  not  only 
by  loving,  filial  obedience  to  the  Divine  law,  and  by  the 
consciousness  of  a  limited  and  defined  period  into  which 
all  the  activity  of  one  specific  kind  must  be  condensed, 
but  also  by  the  motive  expressed  in  such  words  as  these,  in 
which  this  Gospel  is  remarkably  rich,  "  And  Jesus,  moved 
with  compassion^  put  forth  his  hand  and  touchei  him." 

Thus,  along  with  that  supreme  consecration,  alung  with 
that  swift  ardour  that  will  fill  the  brief  hours  ere  nightfall 
with  service,  there  was  the  constant  pity  of  that  beating 
heart  that  moved  the  diligent  hand.  Christ  if  I  may  so 
say,  could  not  help  working  as  hard  as  He  did,  so  long  as 
there  were  so  many  men  round  about  Him  that  needed 
His  sympathy  and  His  aid. 

III.  So  much  then  for  the  motives ;  and  now  a  word 
finally  as  to  the  worth  of  this  toil  for  us. 

I  do  not  stay  to  elucidate  one  consideration  that  might 
be  suggested,  viz.,  how  precious  a  proof  it  is  of  Christ's 
humanity.  We  should  find  it  easier  to  bring  home  His 
true  manhood  to  our  thoughts,  when  we  remember  that 
He,  like  us,  knew  the  pressure  of  physical  fatigue.  Not 
only  was  it  a  human  spirit  that  wept  and  rejoiced,  that 
was  moved  with  compassion,  and  sometimes  with  indig- 


XIX.]  THE  TOILING    CHRIST.  303 

nation,  but  it  was  a  human  body,  bone  of  our  bone,  and 
flesh  of  our  flesh,  that,  wearied  with  walking  in  the 
burning  sun,  sat  on  the  margin  of  the  well;  that  was 
worn  out  and  needed  to  sleep ;  that  knew  hunger,  as  is 
testified  by  His  sending  the  disciples  to  buy  meat ;  that 
was  thirsty,  as  is  testified  by  His  saying,  "Give  me  to 
drink."  The  true  corporeal  manhood  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  the  fact  that  that  manhood  is  the  tabernacle  of  God 
— without  these  two  facts,  the  morality  and  the  teaching 
of  Christianity  swing  loose  in  vacuo^  and  have  no  holdfast 
in  history,  nor  any  leverage  by  which  they  can  move  men's 
hearts  !  But,  when  we  know  that  the  common  necessities 
of  fatigue,  and  hunger,  and  thirst  belonged  to  Him,  then 
we  gratefully  and  reverently  say,  "Forasmuch  as  the 
children  were  partakers  of  flesh  and  blood,  he  also  him- 
self took  part  of  the  same." 

This  fact  of  Christ's  toil  is  of  worth  to  us  in  other  ways. 

Is  not  that  hard  work  of  Jesus  Christ's  a  lesson  for  us, 
brethren,  in  our  daily  tasks  and  toils — a  lesson  which,  if 
it  were  learnt  and  practised,  would  make  a  difi'erence  not 
only  on  the  intensity  but  upon  the  spirit  with  which  we 
labour  ?  A  great  deal  of  fine  talk  is  indulged  in  about 
the  dignity  of  labour  and  the  like.  Labour  is  a  curse 
until  communion  with  God  in  it,  which  is  possible 
through  Jesus  Christ,  makes  it  a  blessing  and  a  joy. 
Christ,  in  the  sweat  of  His  brow,  won  our  salvation ;  and 
our  work  only  becomes  great  when  it  is  work  done  in, 
and  for,  and  by  Him. 

And  what  do  we  learn  from  His  example  ?  We  learn 
these  things  : — the  plain  lesson,   first,  is — task  all  your 


304  THE   TOILING  CHRIST.  [SERM. 

capacity  and  use  every  minute  in  doing  the  thing  that  is 
plainly  set  before  you  to  do.  Christian  virtues  are  some- 
times thought  to  be  unreal  and  unworldly  things.  I  was 
going  to  say  the  root  of  them,  certainly  the  indispensable 
accompaniment  for  them  all,  is  the  plain,  prosaic,  most 
unromantic  virtue  of  hard  work. 

And  beyond  that,  what  do  we  learn?  The  lesson 
that  you  toilers  in  Manchester  want  There  is  no  need 
to  preach  to  the  most  of  you  to  work  any  harder,  in  one 
department  of  work  at  any  rate ;  but  there  is  great  need 
to  remind  you  of  what  it  was  that  at  once  stirred  Jesus 
Christ  into  energy  and  kept  Him  calm  in  the  midst  of  it 
all — and  that  was  that  everything  was  equally  and 
directly  referred  to  His  Father's  will.  People  talk  now- 
a-days  about  "  missions."  The  only  thing  worth  giving 
that  name  to  is  the  "  mission  ^  which  He  gives  us,  who 
sends  us  into  the  world,  not  to  do  our  own  will,  but  to 
do  the  will  of  Him  that  sent  us.  There  is  a  fatal 
monotony  in  all  our  lives — a  terrible  amount  of  hard 
drudgery  in  them  all  We  have  to  set  ourselves  morning 
after  morning  to  tasks  that  look  to  be  utterly  insignificant 
and  disproportionate  to  the  power  that  we  bring  to  bear 
upon  them — ^like  elephants  picking  up  pins  with  their 
trunks ;  and  yet  we  may  make  all  our  common-place 
drudgery  great,  and  wondrous,  and  fair,  and  full  of  help 
and  profit  to  our  souls,  if,  over  it  all — our  shops,  our 
desks,  our  ledgers,  our  studies,  our  kitchens,  and  our  nur- 
series— ^we  write,  "  My  meat  is  to  do  the  will  of  him  that 
sent  me."  We  may  bring  the  greatest  prindplet  to  beai 
upon  the  smallest  duties. 


XIX.]  THE  TOILING  CHRIST,  305 

Wliat  more  do  we  learn  from  Christ's  toil?  The 
possible  harmony  of  communion  and  service.  His 
labour  did  not  break  His  fellowship  with  God.  He  was 
ever  in  the  secret  place  of  the  Most  High,  even  while 
He  was  in  the  midst  of  crowds.  He  has  taught  us  that 
it  is  possible  to  be  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  all  the  days 
of  our  lives,  and  by  His  ensample,  as  by  His  granted 
Spirit,  encourages  us  to  aim  at  so  serving  that  we  shall 
never  cease  to  behold,  and  so  beholding  that  we  shall 
never  cease  to  serve  our  Father.  The  life  of  contempla- 
tion and  the  life  of  practice,  so  hard  to  harmonize  in  our 
experience,  perfectly  meet  in  Christ 

What  more  do  we  learn  from  our  Lord's  toils.  The 
cheerful  constant  postponement  of  our  own  ease,  wishes, 
or  pleasure  to  the  call  of  the  Father's  voice,  or  to  the 
echo  of  it  in  the  sighing  of  such  as  be  sorrowful.  I  have 
already  referred  to  the  instances  of  His  putting  aside  His 
need  for  rest,  and  His  desire  for  still  fellowship  with  God 
at  the  call  of  whoever  needed  Him.  It  was  the  same 
alwa3rs.  If  a  Nicodemus  comes  by  night,  if  a  despairing 
father  forces  his  way  into  the  house  of  feasting,  if  another 
suppliant  finds  Him  in  a  house,  where  He  would  have  re- 
mained hid,  if  they  come  running  to  Him  in  the 
way,  or  drop  down  their  sick  before  Him  through  the 
very  roof — it  is  all  the  same.  He  never  thinks  of  Him- 
self, but  gladly  addresses  Himself  to  heal  and  bless. 
How  such  an  example  followed  would  change  our  lives 
and  amaze  and  shake  the  world ! — "  I  come,  not  to  do 
mine  own  will."     "  Even  Christ  pleased  not  himself." 

But  that  toil  is  not  only  a  pattern  for  our  lives  ;  it  is 

3  L 


So6  THE  TOILING  CHRIST, 

an  appeal  to  our  grateful  hearts.  Surely  a  toiling 
Christ  is  as  marvellous  as  a  dying  Christ  I  And  the  im- 
mensity and  the  purity  and  the  depth  of  His  love  are 
showTi  no  less  by  this,  that  He  labours  to  accomplish  it, 
than  by  this  that  He  dies  to  complete  it.  He  will  not 
give  blessings  which  depend  upon  mere  will,  and  can  be 
bestowed  as  a  king  might  fling  a  largess  to  a  beggar 
without  efifort,  and  with  scai'ce  a  thought,  but  blessings 
which  He  Himself  has  to  agonize  and  to  energize,  and 
to  lead  a  life  of  obedience,  and  to  die  a  death  of  shame, 
in  order  to  procure.  "  I  will  not  offer  burnt-offering  to 
God  of  that  which  doth  cost  me  nothing,"  says  the  grate- 
ful heart  But  in  so  saying  it  is  but  following  in  the  track 
of  the  loving  Christ,  who  will  not  give  unto  man  that 
which  cost  Him  nothing,  and  who  works,  as  well  as  dies, 
in  order  that  we  may  be  saved. 

And,  O  brethren,  think  of  the  contiast  between  what 
Christ  has  done  to  save  us,  and  what  we  do  to  secure 
and  appropriate  that  salvation  !  He  toiled  all  His  days, 
buying  our  peace  with  His  life — going  do\vn  into  the 
mine  and  bringing  up  the  jewels  at  the  cost  of  His  own 
precious  blood.  And  you  and  I  stand  with  folded  arms, 
too  apathetic  to  take  rich  treasures  that  are  freely  given 
to  us  of  God  1  He  has  done  everything  that  we  may 
have  nothing  to  do,  and  we  will  not  even  put  out  our 
slack  hands  to  clasp  the  grace  purchased  by  His  blood, 
and  commended  by  His  toil !  "  Therefore  we  ought  to 
give  the  more  earnest  heed  to  the  things  which  we  have 
heard,  lest  at  any  time  we  should  let  them  slip." 


307 
SERMON    XX. 

CONSIDER     CHRIST. 


Hebrews  iii,  i. 

Wherefore,  holy  brethren,  partakers  of  the  heavenly  callmg,  considei 
the  Apostle  and  High  Priest  of  our  profession,  Christ  Jesus. 

T^HERE  are  few  things  which  the  ordinary  religious 
life  of  this  day  needs  more  than  patient,  quiet  medi- 
tation. It  is  full  of  energy,  of  liberality,  of  zeal  for  what 
it  believes  to  be  truth.  Works  of  benevolence  and  of 
Christian  self-sacrifice  abound.  But  it  may  be  gravely 
questioned  whether  all  this  vigour  of  service  is  not  carried 
on  at  the  cost  of  still  more  precious  and  essential  things : 
whether  our  modem  type  of  Christianity  has  root  enough 
to  bear  all  these  blossoms  without  harm :  whether  good 
men  commune  with  Christ  as  much  as  they  work  for  Him. 
The  stream  flows  broad,  but  what  of  the  hidden  springs 
which  feed  it  ?  I  venture  to  beUeve  that  one  of  the  most 
needful  and  merciful  of  Christ's  words  to  His  people  is 
the  injunction,  "  Come  ye,  yourselves,  apart  into  a  lonely 
place,  and  rest  awhile."  And  I  select  these  words  for  a 
text,  with  the  simple  and  distinctly  practical  purpose  of 
urging  upoo  them  this  great  Christian  duty  U — itiU  medi- 


3o8  CONSIDEK  i  fIRIST.  [serm 

tation  on  Christ,  on  what  He  is  to  us,  and  on  what  we  are 
in  and  by  Him. 

I.  We  have  here  one  great  comprehetisive  command — 
'*  consider  Christ." 

Now  that  word  "  consider "  implies  in  the  original  an 
earnest,  fixed,  prolonged  attention  of  mind.  Om:  gaze 
upon  Christ  is  to  be  like  that  of  a  man  who  resolutely 
turns  away  his  eyes  from  other  things,  to  fix  them,  with 
keen  interest  and  eagerness,  with  protracted,  steady  look, 
on  something  which  he  is  resolved  to  learn  thoroughly. 

The  first  remark  that  I  would  make  then  is  the  very 
simple  and  obvious  one — that  a  Christian  man's  thoughts 
should  be  occupied  with  his  Saviour. 

Very  simple  and  obvious  no  doubt — ^but,  alas !  I  am 
afraid  terribly  forgotten  in  practice.  How  do  you  Christian 
people  expect  to  get  any  good  or  blessing  from  Jesus 
Christ?  Does  He  not  work  by  His  truth?  And  can 
that  truth  which  sanctifies  and  saves,  which  is  the  weapon 
of  the  Spirit,  and  the  medium  of  His  grace,  produce  effects 
if  it  is  not  appropriated  and  digested  by  the  meditative 
occupation  of  our  minds  with  it?  What  is  all  the  Gospel 
to  you  unless  it  is  consciously  present  to  your  understand- 
ing, and  through  your  understanding  is  ruling  your  affec 
tions,  and  moulding  your  will,  and  directing  and  shaping 
the  outgoings  of  your  life?  Nothing — nothing!  A  man 
may  call  himself  a  Christian ;  but  the  measure  of  his 
Christianity  is  the  occupation  of  his  mind  and  heart  with 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 

When  we  "  taste  the  good  word  of  God  "  we  are  made 
partakers  of  "the  powers  of  the  world  to  come."     Unless 


XX.]  CONSIDER  CHRIST, 


309 


there  be  that  occupation  of  my  thoughts  with  God's 
Gospel,  there  is  no  union  between  me  and  it  But  the 
man  and  the  word  of  salvation  stand  over  against  each 
other — there  the  fulness,  here  the  emptiness;  there  all 
that  I  want,  here  I  wanting  it  all.  There  is  no  channel 
by  which  that  fulness  flows  into  this  emptiness  unless  our 
thoughts,  and  by  means  of  them  our  whole  spiritual 
nature,  be  occupied  with  the  truth  which  reveals  Christ, 
and  with  the  Christ  whom  the  truth  reveals. 

Then,  that  being  premised,  note  how  much  practical 
direction  as  to  the  manner  of  that  occupation  of  mind  and 
spirit  with  Christ  lies  in  that  single  emphatic  word  ^'consider" 

There  is  surely  implied,  to  begin  with,  that  such  occu- 
pation must  be  the  result  of  conscious  effort.  No  man 
will  keep  Christ  before  his  mind  without  having  to  make 
a  sensible  effort  to  turn  away  from  the  whole  rabble  of 
distracting  thoughts  that  lie  round  him.  In  this  same 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  the  writer  lays  it  down  as  a  con- 
dition of  all  persevering  continuance  in  the  race  set  before 
us  that  we  should  be  "looking  unto  Jesus";  and  he 
employs  there  a  word  which  might  be  rendered,  perhaps, 
"  looking  away "  to  Him.  That  conveys  the  same  idea 
of  rigid  shutting  out  of  other  things  in  order  that  one 
supreme  light  may  fill  the  eye  and  gladden  the  soul.  If 
you  do  not  carefiilly  drop  black  curtains  round  the  little 
chamber,  and  exclude  all  side  lights,  as  well  as  all  other 
objects  from  the  field  of  vision,  there  ¥rill  be  no  clear 
impression  of  the  beloved  face  made  upon  the  sensitive 
plate.  It  must  be  in  the  darkness  that  the  image  is 
transferred  to  the  heart 


310  CONSIDER  CHRIST,  [SERM. 

Why  should  Christian  people  expect  to  be  able  to  gaze 
upon  Him  whom  they  have  not  seen,  without  practising 
that  concentration  and  limitation  which  is  indispensable 
to  far  lower  occupations  of  mind  ?  Rather,  it  is  needed 
here  more  than  anywhere  else,  for  we  have  here  to  do 
with  One  whom  no  sense  reveals,  and  whom  outward 
things  and  our  own  sluggish  earthly-mindedness  are  ever 
conspiring  to  thrust  from  our  hold.  No  man  makes 
progress  in  any  branch  of  human  thought  or  science  with- 
out this  first  condition — the  habit  of  pinning  himself 
down  wholly  to  the  subject  in  hand,  and  rigidly  restrain- 
ing all  wandering  thoughts.  You  must  bring  your  instru- 
ment to  a  point  before  it  will  penetrate,  to  an  edge  that  it 
may  cut — and  only  firm  concentration  of  oneself  on  the 
matter  before  us  will  do  that.  And  if  that  be  true  of 
regions  of  thought,  where  men  willingly  resort,  and  from 
which  no  reluctance  of  heart  draws  them  back,  how  much 
more  true  it  must  be  of  that  region  to  which  our  heavy 
souls  are  averse  to  rise,  and  whose  pure  keen  air  it  is  hard 
for  our  lungs  to  breathe  ?  Why,  you  cannot  even  make 
money  until,  as  you  say,  "you  give  your  minds  to  business." 
A  man  sitting  at  a  desk,  cannot  even  add  up  a  column 
of  figures  correctly,  if  he  is  thinking  about  a  hundred 
other  things.  And  do  you  think  that  the  Divine  glories 
of  Christ  are  to  flow  into  a  man's  soul  on  condition  of 
less  concentration  and  attention  ?  If,  on  the  wild  stock 
of  our  sinful  nature  a  better  life  has  been  budded,  we 
have  to  take  care  that  the  energy  of  our  souls  does  not 
waste  itself  in  vagrant  shoots,  that  bear  only  scentless, 
wild  flowers ;  and  that  we  prune  close  and  unsparingly  our 


XX.]  CONSIDER  CHRIST,  311 

wandering  thoughts,  our  earthly  desires,  else  we  shall 
bear  no  fragrant  blossoms. 

But,  still  further,  our  gaze  on  Him  must  be  the  look 
of  eager  interest ;  it  must  be  intense  as  well  as  fixed. 

I  do  not  wonder  at  so  many  people  thinking  that  there 
is  nothing  to  interest  them  in  the  Gospel.  There  is 
nothing — and  that  for  many  reasons,  and  among  the  rest 
for  this,  that  they  do  not  come  to  it  with  awakened  eager- 
ness, with  interested  earnest  gaze ;  and  so,  because  they 
are  careless,  it  is  weary ;  because  they  have  no  hunger, 
it  is  tasteless ;  because  they  neither  expect  nor  wish  to 
receive  anything,  they  go  as  empty  as  they  came.  To 
one  man,  looking  out  on  the  world  almost  as  a  beast 
might  look,  nothing  appears  wonderful,  nothing  great; 
to  another,  "  every  common  sight "  bears  "  the  glory  and 
the  freshness  of  a  dream,"  and  seems  "apparelled  in 
celestial  light"  To  one  man,  looking  up  with  lack-lustre 
stolid  gaze,  the  stars  are  but  so  many  shining  points,  laid 
flat  on  a  flat  arch.  To  another,  they  are  spheres  im- 
measurable and  multitudinous,  set  in  violet  depths  which 
imagination  cannot  fly  across,  nor  thought  fathom.  And 
as  the  earth  and  the  heavens  vary  according  to  the  eye 
that  looks  upon  them,  so  does  Christ  vary.  "Is  it  nothing 
to  you,  all  ye  that  pass  by?"  The  careless  glance  sees 
nought  even  in  that  unparalleled  sorrow — while  some 
who  gaze  are  bowed  in  grief,  and  some  are  smitten  with 
penitence,  and  angels  are  filled  with  wonder.  He,  and 
His  words  and  works.  His  life  and  death,  seem  to  some  of 
you  familiar  and  commonplace — and,  thank  God  1  some 
of  us  looking  on  the  very  same  facts,  see  in  them  the 


31  a  CONSIDER  CHRIST,  [SERM 

very  mightiest  and  most  blessed  things  ever  done  in  the 
world's  history;  and  listening  to  the  very  same  truths, 
find  His  lightest  word  weighty  with  inexhaustible  meaning; 
and,  gazing  on  the  very  same  person  in  whom  you  see  no 
"  beauty  that  you  should  desire  him,"  behold  Him  as 
fairer  than  the  sons  of  men,  and  the  dimmest  gleam  from 
His  face  as  bright  beyond  the  radiance  of  the  noon-day  sun. 
On  the  road  to  Damascus  the  same  objective  pheno- 
menon was  probably  presented  to  the  senses  of  Saul,  and 
of  his  companions.  But  they  saw  only  light,  while  he 
beheld  a  form;  they  heard  only  a  sound,  he  heard  a 
voice  with  a  meaning  which  smote  upon  his  conscience, 
and  bowed  his  will  We,  brethren,  stand  together  in  the 
secret  place  of  thunder,  we  stand  together  before  the 
fontal  source  of  light  Some  of  us  hear  but  an  inarticul- 
ate rumbling  above  the  clouds,  while  others  hear  the 
very  speech  of  God.  Some  of  us  see  but  a  formless 
brightness,  where  others  behold  Him  who  is  the  master- 
light  of  all  our  seeing.  If  we  would  hear  Christ,  we  must 
keep  our  ear  attent  unto  His  voice.  If  we  would  behold 
Him,  we  must  gaze  with  reverent  eagerness  and  fixed 
concentration — setting  our  thoughts  on  things  above, 
where  Christ  is,  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  God.  To 
superficial  investigation,  no  treasures  are  disclosed ;  we 
must  dig  deep,  if  we  would  find  the  vein  where  the  gold 
lies.  "  If  thou  criest  after  knowledge,  and  liftest  up  thy 
voice  for  understanding ;  if  thou  seekest  her  as  silver,  and 
searchest  for  her  as  for  hid  treasures;  then  shalt  thou 
understand  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  and  find  the  knowledge 
of  God.** 


XX.]  CONSIDER  CHRIST,  3^3 

Still  further,  another  requisite  of  this  occupation  of 
mind  with  Christ  and  His  work  may  be  suggested  as 
included  in  the  word.  Our  consideration  must  be 
resolute,  eager;  and,  also — steady  or  continuous.  A 
hurried  glance  is  as  profitless  as  a  careless  one.  You  do 
not  see  much  on  first  going  into  a  dark  room  out  of  the 
light ;  nor  do  you  see  much  on  first  going  into  the  light 
out  of  the  dark.  When  a  man  steps  for  a  hasty  moment 
out  of  the  bright  sunny  market-place,  with  all  its  gay 
colouring,  into  the  cool,  dark  cathedral,  he  sees  but  dimly 
the  still  figures  above  the  altar,  and  the  subdued  splen- 
dour of  stained  glass  and  sculptured  shrines.  And  if  he 
rushes  back  to  the  outside  glare  before  his  eyes  become 
accustomed  to  the  obscurity,  he  will  bear  away  but  a 
vague  impression  of  confused  richness,  and  have  nothing 
definite  to  remember.  No  man  can  see  the  beauty  of  a 
country  as  he  hurries  through  it  in  a  train.  It  is  only 
when  we  sit  still  and  gaze  till  all  the  landscape  sinks  into 
our  souls,  and  we  are  steeped  in  it,  that  its  fairness  is 
revealed  to  us. 

But,  alas  !  how  little  of  this  patient  prolonged  concen- 
tration of  interested  thought  on  our  dear  Lord,  do  even 
the  best  and  devoutest  of  us  employ  !  And  as  for  the 
ordinary  Christian  life  of  this  day — what  a  sad  contrast 
does  it  present  to  such  an  ideal !  It  was  Newton,  I 
think,  who,  when  asked  as  to  his  method  of  working  in 
attacking  complicated  problems,  had  only  the  simple 
answer  to  give,  "  I  keep  it  before  me."  Yes  ;  that  is  the 
way  to  master  any  subject  of  thought.  The  steady  gaze 
will,  by  slow  degrees,  see  order  where  the  random  glance 


314  CONSIDER  CHRIST.  [SERM. 

saw  only  chaos ;  and  the  mind  long  familiar  with  a  truth 
will  have  an  ease  and  mastery  in  wielding  it,  an  instinc- 
tive perception  of  its  roots  and  its  consequences,  its 
relations  to  others,  which  will  seem  miraculous  to  one 
who  has  only  looked  upon  it  by  snatches. 

And  we,  dear  brethren,  shall  never  see  the  glory  oi 
that  light  which  dwells  between  the  Cherubim,  if  our  visits 
to  the  shrine  are  brief  and  interrupted,  and  the  bulk  of 
our  time  is  spent  outside  the  tabernacle  amidst  the  glaring 
sand  and  the  blazing  sunshine.  The  Psalmist  desired  to 
"  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord  all  the  days  of  his  life, 
that  he  might  behold  the  beauty  of  the  Lord " — for  he 
knew  that  only  such  continuousness  of  abode  would  fit 
his  eyes  to  see  the  light,  and  attune  his  ears  to  hear  the 
voice  of  answer  to  him  inquiring  in  the  temple.  No 
short  swallow-flights  of  soul  will  ever  carry  us  to  the 
serene  height  where  He  dwells.  Tt  is  the  eagle,  with 
steady  unflagging  flap  of  his  broad  pinion,  and  open-eyed 
gaze  upwards,  that  rises  "close  to  the  sun,  in  lonely  lands," 
and  leaves  all  the  race  of  short-winged  and  weak-sighted 
twitterers  far  below.  I-,et  us  fix  our  eyes  on  Him — 
our  Lord.  Surely  there  is  enough  there  to  draw  and 
satisfy  the  most  prolonged  eager  gaze.  He  is  our 
Example,  our  Redeemer,  our  Prophet  In  Him  we  see 
all  of  God  that  man  can  apprehend,  and  all  of  man.  In 
Him  we  behold  our  wisdom,  our  strength,  our  righteous- 
ness. We  may  gaze  on  Him  with  the  confident  look  of 
faith,  with  the  else  hopeless  look  of  those  in  whose  veins 
is  poisoned  death,  with  the  submission  of  obedience,  with 
the  rapture  of  love.    And  how  do  we  look  ?    Languidly, 


XX.]  CONSIDER  CHRIST.  315 

carelessly,  as  a  child  does  at  his  task,  while  the  butterflies 
and  the  flowers  in  the  garden  draw  away  his  wandering 
gaze.  We  think  of  Him  by  snatches.  We  give  Him 
some  few  moments  in  the  morning,  before  we  are  well 
awake  perhaps;  and  some  few  moments  at  night,  when  we 
are  almost  asleep ;  and  the  day  is  occupied  with  a  mul- 
titude of  thoughts,  which  would  not  be  much  unlike  what 
they  are,  if  there  were  no  Christ  at  all.  We  give  Him  an 
hour  or  two  on  a  Sunday,  and  fancy  that  the  manna 
gathered  then  will  last  all  the  week  !  Alas  !  alas  !  for  the 
coldness,  the  vagrancy,  and  the  infrequency  of  the 
thoughts  which  we  afford  to  Him  who  ever  thinks  of  us, 
and  whom  it  is  our  life  to  know  and  keep  in  our  hearts. 
Alas  !  alas  !  for  the  satire  on  Christian  life,  as  we  so  often 
see  it,  which  that  exhortation  and  its  accompanying 
motives  contain,  "Holy  brethren,  partakers  of  the  heavenly 
calling — consider — Christ  Jesus." 

II.  So  much,  then,  for  this  one  comprehensive  injunc- 
tion. Now,  let  me  say  a  very  few  words  as  to  The  great 
aspects  of  Christ  s  work  which  should  fix  our  gaze. 

We  have  Himself  proposed  as  the  object  of  our 
thoughts.  Not  merely  the  truth  concerning  Him,  but 
Him  as  brought  near  us  by  the  truth.  Scripture  never 
deals  with  Christ's  work  apart  from  Him — the  worker, 
nor  presents  Christian  truth  in  the  hard  and  abstract 
form  which  it  must  necessarily  take  when  men  begin  to 
reflect  upon  it,  and  try  to  arrange  their  thoughts  into 
something  like  order  and  consistency.  But  it  by  no 
means  follows  from  that  difference  between  the  Bible  and 
theological  dogmas  or  creeds  that  these  are  unwarrantable 


3l6  CONSIDER  CHRIST,  [SERM. 

expansions  of  Christian  truth.  They  are  inevitable,  they 
are  necessary,  they  have  their  own  purpose,  and  are  good 
for  that.  But  they  are  not  the  nourishment  of  loving  de- 
votion and  living  faith.  The  Christian  contemplation  of 
which  my  text  speaks  is  the  contemplation  of  Christ 
made  known  as  the  living  and  Divine  agent  of  our  re- 
demption, who  is  our  propitiation,  in  whom  we  have 
forgiveness  through  His  blood,  who  of  God  is  made  unto 
us  righteousness,  who  is  our  life  and  our  hope.  It  is  not 
the  consideration  of  abstract  ideas,  however  accurate,  of 
atonement,  forgiveness,  sanctification.  We  need  these 
that  we  may  understand  what  Christ  is ;  but  we  have  to 
look  on  Him  as  being  all  these  for  us — and  then  the 
contemplation  is  joyful  and  fruitful. 

What,  then,  are  the  aspects  of  the  work  and  character 
of  Christ  which  the  writer  here  proposes  for  our  patient 
gaze?  There  are  two — consider  Him  as  Apostle  and 
as  High  Priest. 

He  is  the  "  Apostle  "  of  our  profession.  The  applica- 
tion of  that  name  to  Him  is  startling  to  us,  who  are 
accustomed  to  apply  it  exclusively  and  almost  technically 
to  the  twelve.  But  its  use  here  may  show,  as  has  been 
observed,  that  those  whom  we  call  apostles  were  not  so 
distinctly  marked  as  a  separate  class  at  the  date  of  this 
epistle,  as  they  have  been  since.  At  all  events,  there  is 
nothing  surprising  in  the  idea  conveyed  by  the  word.  No 
declaration  was  more  common  on  our  Lord's  lips  when 
on  earth  than  that  He  was  "  sent  of  God."  There  need 
then  be  no  surprise  at  the  thought  that  is  here  expressed. 
It  is  not  only  in  harmony  with  his  own  words,  but  is 


XX.]  CONSIDER  CHRIST,  31? 

singularly  appropriate  and  relevant  to  the  writer's  purpose 
in  this  place ;  for  the  point  which  he  has  been  establishing 
up  till  now  has  been  the  superiority  of  the  Son  over  all 
former  messengers  of  the  Divine  Will,  whether  the 
prophets  who  received  partial  and  progressive  syllables  of 
God's  voice  to  speak  to  the  fathers,  or  the  angels  who 
do  His  commandments,  hearkening  to  the  voice  of  His 
word  All  these  are  "ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to 
minister " :  but  this  man  is  higher  than  the  angels,  inas- 
much as  He  is  the  sole  messenger,  sent  by  God  as  none 
others  are  sent,  to  declare  His  whole  name  once  and 
for  all,  to  bring  His  whole  love,  not  only  to  serve  but  to 
save,  not  only  to  help  but  to  rule  the  sons  of  men,  His 
brethren.  He  is  sent  forth  from  God,  and  brings  God  to 
us.  He  and  He  alone,  He  and  He  for  ever,  He  and  He 
for  all  is — the  sent  of  God. 

And  our  faithful  and  loving  thoughts  are  to  lay  hold 
upon  this  aspect  of  His  nature  and  work,  not  to  tarry  in 
the  simple  manhood,  fair  and  blessed  as  that  is,  but  to 
discern  in  him  the  complete  expression  of  the  Divine 
Will,  the  complete  fulfilment  of  the  slow  marching  revela- 
tions of  God,  the  perfect,  final,  eternal  word  spoken  of 
God  among  men. 

Then  we  are  to  think  of  Him  as  our  High  Priest  "  As 
Apostle,"  it  has  been  well  said,  "  he  pleads  God's  cause 
with  us  :  as  High  Priest  he  pleads  our  cause  with  God. 
The  Apostolate  and  the  Priesthood  of  Christ  are  both  in- 
cluded in  the  one  word — mediator."  The  idea  of  priest- 
hood depends  upon  that  of  sacrifice,  and  the  idea  ol 
sacrifice,  as  this  epistle  abundantly  shows,  is  incomplete, 


3l8  CONSIDER  CHRIST.  [sERM 

without  that  of  expiation.  The  idea  of  priesthood 
includes  that  of  representation,  and  the  priestly  represen- 
tation of  the  people  is  incomplete,  as  this  epistle  again 
sho\ys,  without  the  presence  of  the  priest  within  the 
vail.  So,  when  we  are  bid  to  consider  the  "  High  Priest 
of  our  profession,"  our  thoughts  are  pointed  back  to  the 
one  great  act  by  which  Christ  **  hath  offered  one  sacrifice 
for  sins  for  ever,"  and  up  to  the  continuous  work  which, 
with  ever  ready  sympathy  and  ever  prevalent  intercession, 
He  carries  on  in  the  heavens,  presenting  there  His  Eternal 
Sacrifice,  preparing  a  place  for  us  because  He  is  there, 
and  sending  down  on  us  the  fulness  of  the  gifts  which  are 
His  that  they  may  be  ours. 

The  central  point  of  our  meditation  and  of  our  fiaiith  in 
the  work  of  Christ  is  His  Sacrifice  and  Intercession.  He 
has  come  forth  from  the  Father — His  messenger  to  men ; 
He  has  gone  to  the  Father — our  priest  and  forerunner 
with  God  By  both  offices  He  completes  His  merciful 
mediation — ^the  Christ  whom  it  is  our  life  and  blessedness 
to  set  ever  before  us  is  the  Christ  who,  Son  of  God,  lived 
that  He  might  declare  God  to  men ;  and,  Son  of  Man, 
died,  that  He  might  reconcile  men  to  God — and  Son  of 
God,  and  Son  of  Man,  ever  hveth  that  He  may  pour 
heaven's  gifts  upon  earth,  and  at  last  lift  earth's  children 
to  heaven.  "Wherefore — consider  Jesus  Christ,  our 
Apostle  and  High  Priest" 

ni.  Notice,  finally,  the  Great  Reasons  for  this  occupation 
of  Mind  and  Heart  with  Christ,  our  Mediator, 

These  are  to  be  found  in  the  remaining  portion  of  this 
verse.      The  author  of  the  epistle  does  not  formallv 


XX.]  CONSIDER  CHRIST.  319 

adduce  them  as  motives,  but  he  is  in  effect  urging  to  this 
loving  contemplation  in  all  that  he  says  here.  The  terms 
in  which  he  addresses  his  readers,  the  obligations  at  which, 
he  points  in  reminding  them  of  their  profession  and  what 
it  implied,  and  the  connection  which  he  establishes,  by 
the  "wherefore"  of  our  text,  between  this  practical 
precept,  and  all  the  preceding  argument  for  Christ's 
exalted  dignity — all  these  are  meant  to  give  force  to,  and 
converge  upon,  the  one  injunction.  We  may  briefly 
indicate  what  seems  to  be  the  force  of  these  reasons. 

Our  relation  to  Christ  and  the  bemfit  we  derive  from  it 
should  impel  us  to  loving  meditation  on  Him.  "  Holy 
brethren."  That  is  a  very  unusual  phrase,  and  it 
obviously  refers  back  to  the  former  chapter  where  we 
read,  "  Both  he  that  makes  holy,  and  they  who  are  made 
holy,  are  all  of  one,  for  which  cause  he  is  not  ashamed  to 
call  them  brethren."  Because,  then,  of  the  ties  of 
brotherhood  which  knit  us  all  to  that  dear  Lord,  and 
because  He,  our  elder  brother,  sanctifies  us  all,  should 
we  not  ever  turn  with  loving  thoughts  to  Him  who  has 
not  been  ashamed  to  claim  kindred  with  us  ragged 
prodigals,  but  Himself  brings  the  best  robe  and  puts  it 
on  us  ?  He  has  brought  us  into  the  family  of  God.  If 
we  are  His  brethren,  we  are  God's  sons  \  He  has  knit  us 
into  one  household.  He  has  put  the  Spirit  of  His  own 
Sonship  into  our  hearts,  and  has  sanctified  us  with  His 
own  imparted  life.  How  should  we  not  think  of  Him 
who  has  already  done  this  for  us  1  What  occupation  of 
mind  can  be  too  great,  what  devotion  of  heart  can  be  too 
utter,  to  lender  to  Him  to  whom  alone  we  owe  it,  that  we 


320  CONSIDER  CHRIST,  [SERM. 

are  no  more  slaves  but  sons,  no  more  bondsmen  of 
corruption,  but  free  and  holy  ?  We  have  received  these 
gifts  from  Him.  We  continue  to  receive  them,  on  con- 
dition of  keeping  this  injunction.  Gratitude  should 
lead  us  to  consider  Him ;  and  regard  for  our  own 
continued  reception  of  His  blessings  should  do  so  too. 
"Consider  him,"  because  you  are  by  His  mercy  holy 
brethren  :  and  not  less — consider  Him  tliat  you  may  con- 
tinue and  increase  in  consciousness  of  brotherhood,  and 
in  fairer  holiness. 

Christian  men,  learn  the  means  of  growth  in  all 
Christian  excellencies.  Not  by  lamentations  over  our 
own  deficiencies — though  we  need  the  humblest  con- 
sciousness of  these.  Not  by  painful  efforts  after  working 
ourselves  into  a  happy  consciousness  of  sonship,  or  after 
a  purer  life.  But  by  forgetting  all  about  ourselves,  and 
occupying  ourselves  wholly  with  Jesus  Christ,  our  Brother 
and  our  Sanctifier.  The  nearer  we  get  to  Him,  the  holier 
we  become.  The  closer  we  press  to  Him,  the  liker  Him 
we  grow.  The  more  we  meditate  on  our  Brother  and 
our  Lord,  the  more  shall  we  be  conscious  that  we,  too, 
are  sons  of  God,  and  brethren  of  the  Lord.  The  more 
firmly  we  clasp  His  hand,  the  more  abundantly  will 
healing  and  energy  flow  from  His  touch  into  our  sick 
impotence.  Since  we  claim  to  be  called  holy  brethren, 
let  us  never  forget  Him  who  makes  us  so.  If  we  would 
deserve  the  name,  let  us  turn  away  our  thoughts  from  all 
else,  and  keep  our  spirits  fixed  upon  Him.  Then  a  great 
peacefulness  shall  rest  upon  our  hearts,  and  we  shall  be 
holy  as  He  is  holy. 


XX.]  CONSIDER  CHRIST,  321 

The  calling  of  which  we  are  partakers  should  impel  us 
to  loving  meditation.  God  in  Christ  calls  us  to  His 
service,  to  His  love,  to  His  heaven.  That  Divine  calling 
which  is  addressed  to  us  throu-h  Jesus  Christ  is  heavenly 
in  its  origin,  and  heavenly  in  its  aim.  It  echoes  from 
and  it  summons  to  heaven.  Of  this  call  all  Christian 
souls  are  recipients.  Therefore  it  becomes  them  to  set 
their  thoughts  and  love  on  that  Saviour,  through  whom 
they  receive  it  at  the  first,  and  continue  to  feel  its  quick 
ening  impulse  and  its  immortal  hopes. 

You  are  not  true  to  your  calling.  Christian  men  and 
women,  unless  you  "consider  Christ"  You  will  not 
preserve  the  blessed  consciousness  of  "  the  great  voice 
which  says,  Come  up  hither  "—unless  your  thoughts  are 
often  turned  to  Him  who  has  gone  up  on  high  that  out 
hearts  as  well  as  our  hopes  should  have  a  home  above. 
If  we  would  preserve  our  sense  of  the  invitation  that  from 
heaven  beckons  us  to  heaven,  and  encircles  us  with 
heaven  even  on  our  journey  thither — if  we  would  con- 
tinuously feel  the  quickening  power  of  the  hand  that,  laid 
upon  our  shoulders,  summons  us  by  its  touch  to  higher 
and  immortal  life ;  because  we  are,  and  that  we  may  con- 
tinue to  be,  "partakers  of  the  heavenly  calling"— let 
Christ  and  His  love  fill  our  thoughts,  and  our  faith  and 
hope  be  fixed  on  Him. 

Further,  the  avowal  which  we  have  modi  concerning 
Him  should  impel  us  to  loving,  steadfast  contemplation. 
He  is  "  the  Apostle  and  High  Priest  of  our  profession," 
or,  perhaps,  more  accurately,  "  of  our  confession."  The 
expression  may  possibly  have  the  same  ambiguity  as  it 
5 


32a  CONSIDER  CHRIST.  [SERM. 

has  in  English.  We  talk  about  "  a  confession  of  faith," 
meaning  thereby  either  the  act  of  acknowledgment  or  the 
formal  document  in  which  it  is  contained.  But,  however 
this  may  be,  the  substantial  meaning  would  be  conveyed 
if  we  said,  "the  Apostle  and  High  Priest  whom  we 
confess."  The  motive  that  is  urged  in  these  final  words, 
then,  is  just  this.  Such  fixed,  earnest,  continuous  con- 
templation of  Christ  is  the  only  course  that  is  consistent 
with  our  profession,  or  with  the  avowal  that  we  make  and 
the  position  we  assume.  We  have  professed  a  creed 
which  ought  to  make  it  impossible  for  us  to  forget  Him. 
We  stand  up  and  own  Him  for  our  Lord — do  we  obey 
Him  in  our  lives  ?  We  profess  that  He  is  our  Apostle 
and  High  Priest  Does  our  habitual  neglect  of  Him  not 
give  the  lie  to  our  words?  We  say:  "Thou  art  the  King 
of  Glory,  O  Christ  Thou  art  the  everlasting  Son  of  the 
Father" — and  before  the  words  have  died  into  silence, 
we  forget  Him.  We  say :  "  ^Vhen  thou  hadst  overcome 
the  sharpness  of  death,  thou  didst  open  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  to  all  believers  " — and  neither  gratitude,  nor  won- 
der, nor  hope  are  strong  enough  to  keep  His  image  in 
our  treacherous  hearts.  We  say:  "Thou  sittest  at  the 
right  hand  of  God,  in  the  glory  of  the  Father  " — and  our 
eyes  are  fixed  on  the  earth  at  our  feet,  and  seldom  cast 
even  a  glance  where  He  is  whom  we  call  our  hope.  We 
say :  "  We  believe  that  thou  shalt  come  to  be  our  judge  " 
— ^and  the  awful  splendours  of  that  day  are  too  faint  and 
far  off  to  restrain  us  in  sin  or  stimulate  us  to  holiness. 
Our  creed  avows  that  Christ  is  everything  to  us.  Alas  ! 
alas  1  how  many  of  us  proclaim  in  our  lives  that  He  is 


XX.]  CONSIDER  CHRIST.  323 

nothing.  If  these  tremendous  sentences  are  believed  at 
all  by  us,  what  means  this  languid,  occasional  half-hearted 
gaze  upon  Him  ?  Surely  if  we  believe  them,  we  should 
never  turn  away  from  beholding  that  face,  so  gentle  and 
so  Divine,  radiant  with  the  brightness  of  God,  and  soft 
with  the  dewy  pity  of  a  brother  and  a  priest ! 

Is  your  life  in  accordance  with  your  confession?  If 
Dot,  what  is  the  confession  but  a  blasphemy  or  a  hypocris)? 
And  what  does  it  avail  except  to  make  the  life  more 
criminal  in  its  forgetfulness  of  your  Saviour?  The  incon- 
sistent life  silences  the  loudest  profession,  and  chokes  it 
even  in  the  throat  that  utters  it  It  makes  men  begin  by 
denying  the  honesty  of  the  professor,  and  end  by  doubt- 
ing the  truth  of  the  creed  which  he  professed.  Of  all  the 
enemies  of  the  cross  of  Christ,  none  are  so  potent  as  those 
who,  professing  to  be  His  friends,  live  in  manifest  for- 
getfulness of  Him,  His  love,  and  His  gifts,  and  "mind 
earthly  things."  Through  such  the  name  of  Christ  is 
blasphemed.  "Wherefore,  consider  the  Apostle  and  High 
Priest  of  our  profession." 

Let  me  end  then,  as  I  began,  with  an  earnest  appeal 
for  more  of  the  habit  of  calm,  fixed  meditation  on  the 
work  and  preciousness  of  our  great  High  Priest.  I  would 
urge  on  you,  dear  brethren,  and  on  myself,  not  to  allow 
our  minds  and  hearts  to  wander  "after  vanities,  and 
become  vain,"  but  rigidly  and  watchfully  to  close  them 
against  the  manifold  distractions  which  in  this  busy  age 
lay  waste  our  lives.  We  need  more — far  more — still 
communion  with  our  Master.  For  want  of  it  our  energy 
is  feverish,  our  patience  soon  exhausted,   our  devotion 


324  CONSIDER  CHRIST, 


lacking  in  depth,  our  hopes  in  brightness,  our  whole  lives 
in  calmness.  Dear  brethren  !  by  all  these  motives,  so 
strongly  woven  together  in  the  words  of  our  text,  and  by 
many  more,  we  are  called  to  the  constant  effort  to  "  set 
the  Lord  always  before  us,"  and,  turning  our  happy 
thoughts  to  Him  even  in  the  midst  of  our  daily  duties,  to 
''  walk  all  the  day  long  in  the  light  of  his  countenance." 

Remember  that  vision  on  the  Mount  of  Transfiguration, 
and  let  it  be  ours,  even  in  the  glare  of  earthly  joys  and 
brightnesses,  to  lift  up  our  eyes,  like  those  wondering 
three,  "  and  see  no  man  any  more,  save  Jesus  only." — 
"Laying  aside  every  weight,  let  us  run  with  patience, 
looking "  away  from  ail  beside  "  UDto  Jesus,  the  author 
md  finisher  of  faith.** 


325 


SERMON  XXI. 

THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVB. 


Matthew  xxvi,  5a 
And  Jesus  said  unto  him,  Friend,  wherefore  art  thou 

\irE  are  accustomed  to  think  of  the  betrayer  of  oui 
Lord  as  a  kind  of  monster,  whose  crime  is  so 
mysterious  in  its  atrocity  as  to  put  him  beyond  the  pale 
of  human  sympathy.  The  awful  picture  which  the  great 
Italian  poet  draws  of  him  as  alone  in  hell,  shunned  even 
there,  as  guilty  beyond  all  others,  expresses  the  general 
feeling  about  him.  And  even  the  attempts  which  have 
been  made  to  diminish  the  greatness  of  his  guilt,  by 
supposing  that  his  motive  was  only  to  precipitate  Christ's 
assumption  of  His  conquering  Messianic  power,  are 
prompted  by  the  same  thought  that  such  treason  as  his 
is  all  but  inconceivable.  I  cannot  but  think  that  these 
attempts  fail,  and  that  the  narratives  of  the  Gospels  oblige 
us  to  think  of  his  crime  as  deliberate  treachery.  But 
even  when  so  regarded,  other  emotions  than  wondering 
loathing  should  be  excited  by  the  awful  story. 

There  had  been  nothing  in  his  previous  history  to 
suggest  sach  sm,  as  is  proved  by  the  disciples'  question, 


326  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE,  [serm 

when  our  Lord  announced  that  one  of  them  should  betra) 
him.  No  suspicion  lighted  on  him — no  finger  pointed 
to  where  he  sat  But  self-distrust  asked,  "Lord,  is  it 
I  ?  "  and  only  love,  pillowed  on  the  Master's  breast,  and 
strong  in  the  happy  sense  of  His  love,  was  sufficiently 
assured  of  its  own  constancy,  to  change  the  question  into, 
"  Lord  !  who  is  it  ?  "  The  process  of  corruption  was  un- 
seen by  all  eyes,  but  Christ's.  He  came  to  his  terrible 
pre-eminence  in  crime  by  slow  degrees,  and  by  paths 
which  we  may  all  tread.  As  for  his  guilt,  that  is  in  other 
hands  than  ours.  As  for  his  fate,  let  us  copy  the  solemn 
and  pitying  reticence  of  Peter,  and  say,  "  that  he  might 
go  to  his  own  place" — the  place  that  belongs  to  him, 
and  that  he  is  fit  for,  wherever  that  may  be.  As  for  the 
growth  and  development  of  his  sin,  let  us  remember  that 
"  We  have  all  of  us  one  human  heart,"  and  that  the 
possibilities  of  crime  as  dark  are  in  us  all.  And  instead  of 
shuddering  abhorrence  at  a  sin  that  can  scarcely  be  under- 
stood, and  can  never  be  repeated,  let  us  be  sure  that 
whatever  man  has  done,  man  may  do,  and  ask  with 
humble  consciousness  of  our  own  deceitful  hearts,  "Lord, 
is  it  I?" 

These  remarkable  and  solemn  words  of  Christ,  with 
which  He  meets  the  treacherous  kiss,  appear  to  be  a  last 
appeal  to  Judas.  They  may  possibly  not  be  a  question, 
as  in  our  version — but  an  incomplete  sentence,  "What 
thou  hast  come  to  do " — leaving  the  implied  conmiand 
"  that  do  "  unexpressed.  They  would  then  be  very  like 
other  words  which  the  betrayer  had  heard  but  an  hour  or 
two  before,  "That  thou  doest,  do  quickly."     But  such  a 


xxl]         the  last  pleading  of  love,  327 

rendering  does  not  seem  so  appropriate  to  the  circum- 
stances as  that  which  makes  them  a  question,  smiting 
on  his  heart  and  conscience,  and  seeking  to  tear  away 
the  veil  of  sophistications  with  which  he  had  draped  from 
his  own  eyes  the  hideous  shape  of  his  crime.  And,  if  so, 
what  a  wonderful  instance  we  have  here  of  that  long- 
suffering  love.  They  are  the  last  effort  of  the  Divine 
patience  to  win  back  even  the  traitor.  They  show  us  the 
wrestle  between  the  infinite  mercy  and  the  treacherous 
sinful  heart,  and  they  bring  into  awfiil  prominence  the 
power  which  that  heart  has  of  rejecting  the  counsel  of 
God  against  itself.  I  venture  to  use  them  now  as  suggest- 
ing these  three  things  : — the  patience  of  Christ's  love ; 
the  pleading  of  Christ's  love ;  and  the  refusal  of  Christ's 
love. 

I.   The  patience  of  Chrisfs  love. 

If  we  take  no  higher  view  of  this  most  pathetic  incid- 
ent than  that  the  words  come  from  a  man's  lips,  even 
then  all  its  beauty  will  not  be  lost.  There  are  some  sins 
against  friendship,  in  which  the  manner  is  harder  to  bear 
than  the  substance  of  the  evil.  It  must  have  been  a 
strangely  m.ean  and  dastardly  nature,  as  well  as  a  coarse 
and  cold  one,  that  could  think  of  fixing  on  the  kiss  of 
affecrion  as  the  concerted  sign  to  point  out  their  victim 
to  the  legionaries.  Many  a  man  who  could  have  planned 
and  executed  the  treason  would  have  shrunk  from  that. 
And  many  a  man  who  could  have  borne  to  be  betrayed 
by  his  own  familiar  friend  would  have  found  that  heart- 
less insult  worse  to  endure  than  the  treason  itself.  But 
what   a   picture  of  perfect  patience  and  unruffled  calm 


328  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE.  [SERM. 

we  have  here,  in  that  the  answer  to  the  poisonous, 
hypocritical  embrace  was  these  moving  words !  The  touch 
of  the  traitor's  lips  has  barely  left  his  cheek,  but  not  one 
faint  passing  flush  of  anger  tinges  it  He  is  perfectly 
self-oblivious — absorbed  in  other  thoughts,  and  among 
them  in  pity  for  the  guilty  wretch  before  him.  His  words 
have  no  agitation  in  them,  no  instinctive  recoil  from  the 
pollution  of  such  a  salutation.  They  have  grave  rebuke, 
but  it  is  rebuke  which  derives  its  very  force  from  the 
appeal  to  former  companionship.  Christ  still  recognizes 
the  ancient  bond,  and  is  true  to  it  He  will  still  plead 
with  this  man  who  has  been  beside  Him  long;  and 
though  His  heart  be  wounded,  yet  He  is  not  wroth,  and 
He  will  not  cast  him  off.  If  this  were  nothing  more  than 
a  picture  of  human  friendship,  it  would  stand  alone, 
above  all  other  records  that  the  world  cherishes  in  its 
mmost  heart,  of  the  affection  that  never  fails,  and  is  not 
soon  angry. 

But  we,  I  hope,  dear  brethren,  think  more  loftily  and 
more  truly  of  our  dear  Lord  than  as  simply  a  perfect  man- 
hood, the  exemplar  of  all  goodness.  How  He  comes  to 
be  that,  if  He  be  not  more  than  that,  I  do  not  under- 
stand, and,  I,  for  one,  feel  that  my  confidence  in  the 
flawless  completeness  of  His  human  character  lives  or 
dies  with  my  belief  that  He  is  the  Eternal  Word,  God 
manifest  in  the  flesh.  Certainly  we  shall  never  truly 
grasp  the  blessed  meaning  of  His  life  on  earth  imtil  we 
look  upon  it  all  as  the  revelation  of  God.  The  tears  of 
Christ  are  the  pity  of  God.  The  gentleness  of  Jesus  is 
the  long-suflering  of  God     The  tenderness  of  Jesus  is 


XXI.]  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE.  3«9 

the  love  of  God.  "  He  that  hath  seen  rae  hath  seen  the 
Father;"  and  all  that  life  so  beautiful  but  so  anomalous 
as  to  be  all  but  incredible,  when  we  think  of  it  as  only 
the  life  of  a  man,  glows  ^nth  a  yet  fairer  beauty,  and 
corresponds  with  the  nature  which  it  expresses,  when  we 
think  of  it  as  being  the  declaration  to  us  by  the  Divine 
Son  of  the  Divine  Father — our  loftiest,  clearest,  and 
authentic  revelation  of  God. 

How  that  thought  lifts  these  words  before  us  into  a 
still  higher  region  !  We  are  now  in  the  presence  of  the 
solemn  greatness  of  a  Divine  love.  If  the  meaning  of 
this  saying  is  what  we  have  suggested,  it  is  pathetic  even 
in  the  lower  aspect,  but  how  infinitely  that  pathos  is 
deepened  when  we  view  it  in  the  higher. 

Surely  if  ever  there  was  a  man  who  might  have  been 
supposed  to  be  excluded  from  the  love  of  God,  it  was 
this  man.  Surely  if  ever  there  was  a  moment  in  a 
human  life,  when  one  might  have  supposed  that  even  that 
ever  open  heart  would  shut  itself  together  against  any 
one,  it  was  this  moment.  But  no,  the  betrayer  in  the 
very  instant  of  his  treason  has  that  changeless  tenderness 
lingering  around  him,  and  that  merciful  hand  beckoning 
to  him  stilL 

And  have  we  not  a  right  to  generalize  this  wonderful 
fact,  and  to  declare  its  teaching  to  be — that  the  love  of 
God  is  extended  to  us  all,  and  cannot  be  made  to  turn 
away  from  us  by  any  sins  of  ours  ?  Sin  is  mighty  ;  it  can 
work  endless  evils  on  us ;  it  can  disturb  and  embitter  all 
our  relations  with  God ;  it  can,  as  we  shall  presently  have 
fo  point  out,  make  it  necessary  for  the  tenderest  "grace 


330  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE,  [SERM. 

of  God  to  come  disciplining  " — to  "  come  with  a  rod," 
just  because  it  comes  in  "the  spirit  of  meekness."  But 
one  thing  it  cannot  do,  and  that  is — make  God  cease  to 
love  us.  I  suppose  all  human  affection  can  be  worn 
out  by  constant  failure  to  evoke  a  response  from 
cold  hearts.  I  suppose  that  it  can  be  so  nipped  by 
frosts,  so  constantly  checked  in  blossoming,  that  it 
shrivels  and  dies.  I  suppose  that  constant  ingratitude, 
constant  indifference  can  turn  the  warmest  springs  of 
our  love  to  a  river  of  ice.  "  Can  a  mother  forget  her 
child? — ^Yea,  she  may  forget."  But  we  have  to  do 
with  a  God,  whose  love  is  His  very  being ;  who  loves  us 
not  for  reasons  in  us  but  in  Himself;  whose  love  is 
eternal  and  boundless  as  all  His  nature ;  whose  love, 
therefore,  cannot  be  turned  away  by  our  sin — but  abides 
with  us  for  ever,  and  is  granted  to  every  soul  of  man. 

Dear  brethren,  we  cannot  believe  too  firmly,  we  can- 
not trust  too  absolutely,  we  cannot  proclaim  too  broadly 
that  blessed  thought,  without  which  we  have  no  hope  to 
feed  on  for  ourselves,  or  to  share  with  our  fellows — the 
universal  love  of  God  in  Christ. 

Is  there  a  uwrst  man  on  earth  at  this  moment  ?  If 
there  be,  he,  too,  has  a  share  in  that  love.  Harlots  and 
thieves,  publicans  and  sinners,  leprous  outcasts,  and  souls 
tormented  by  unclean  spirits,  the  wrecks  of  humanity 
whom  decent  society  and  respectable  Christianity  passes 
by  with  averted  head  and  uplifted  hands,  criminals  on 
the  gibbet  with  the  rope  round  their  necks — and  those 
who  are  hopeless  as  any  of  these,  self-complacent  form- 
alists and   "  Gospel-hardened  professors  " — all  have  a 


XXI.]  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE.  331 

place  in  that  heart  And  that,  not  as  undistinguished 
members  of  a  class,  but  as  separate  souls,  singly  the 
objects  of  God's  knowledge  and  love.  He  loves  all, 
because  He  loves  each.  We  are  not  massed  together  in 
His  view,  nor  in  His  regard.  He  does  not  lose  the 
details  in  the  whole  ;  as  we,  looking  on  some  great  crowd 
of  upturned  faces,  are  conscious  of  all  but  recognize  no 
single  one.  He  does  not  love  a  class — a  world — but  He 
loves  the  single  souls  that  make  it  up — you  and  me,  and 
every  one  of  the  millions  that  we  throw  together  in  the 
vague  phrase,  "  the  race."  Let  us  individualize  that  love 
in  our  thoughts  as  it  individualizes  us  in  its  outflow — 
and  make  our  own  the  "  exceeding  broad "  promises, 
which  include  us,  too.  God  loves  me  ;  Christ  gave  Him- 
self for  me.     I  have  a  place  in  that  royal,  tender  heart 

Nor  should  any  sin  make  us  doubt  this.  He  loved  us 
with  exceeding  love,  even  when  we  were  "  dead  in 
trespasses."  He  did  not  begin  because  of  anything  in 
us  ;  He  will  not  cease  because  of  anything  in  us.  We 
change ;  He  abideth  faithful.  He  cannot  deny  Himself. 
As  the  sunshine  pours  down  as  willingly  and  abundantly 
on  filth  and  dunghills,  as  on  gold  that  glitters  in  its  beam, 
ind  jewels  that  flash  back  its  lustre,  so  the  light  and 
warmth  of  that  unsetting  and  unexhausted  source  of  life 
pours  down  "  on  the  unthankful  and  on  the  good."  The 
great  ocean  clasps  some  black  and  barren  crag  that 
frowns  against  it,  as  closely  as  with  its  waves  it  kisses 
some  fair  strand  enamelled  with  flowers  and  fragrant 
with  perfumes.  So  that  lea  of  love  in  which  we  live, 
tnd  move,  and  have  our  being,  encircles  the  worst  witb 


33*  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE,  [SERBL 

abundant  flow.  He  Himself  sets  us  the  pattern,  which 
to  imitate  is  to  be  the  children  of  "  our  Father  which  is 
in  heaven,"  in  that  He  loves  His  enemies,  blessing  them 
that  curse,  and  doing  good  to  them  that  hate.  He  Him- 
self is  what  He  has  enjoined  us  to  be,  in  that  He  feeds 
His  enemies  when  they  hunger,  and  when  they  thirst 
gives  them  drink,  heaping  coals  of  fire  on  their  heads, 
and  seeking  to  kindle  in  them  thereby  the  glow  of 
answering  love,  not  being  overcome  of  their  evil,  so  that 
He  repays  hate  with  hate  and  scorn  with  scorn,  but  in 
patient  continuance  of  loving  kindness  seeking  to  over- 
come evil  with  good.  He  is  Himself  that  "charity** 
which  "  is  not  easily  provoked,  is  not  soon  angry,  beareth 
all  things,  hopeth  all  things,  and  never  faileth."  His 
love  is  mightier  than  all  our  sins,  and  waits  not  on  our 
merits,  nor  is  turned  away  by  our  iniquities.  "  God  so 
loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son, 
that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but 
have  everlasting  life." 

n.  Then,  secondly,  we  have  here — the  Pleading  of 
Chrisfs  Patient  Love. 

I  have  been  trpng  to  say  as  broadly  and  strongly  as  I 
can,  that  our  sins  do  not  tirni  away  the  love  of  God  in 
Christ  from  us.  The  more  earnestly  we  believe  and 
proclaim  that,  the  more  needful  is  it  to  set  forth  dis- 
tinctly— and  that  not  as  limiting,  but  as  explaining  the 
truth — the  other  thought,  that  the  sin  which  does  not 
avert,  does  modify  the  expression  of  the  love  of  God. 
Man's  sin  compels  Him  to  do,  what  the  prophet  calls  his 
"  strange   work  " — the  work    which  is  not  dear  to  His 


XXI.]  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE.  333 

heart,  nor  natural — if  one  may  so  say,  to  His  hands — His 
work  of  judgment. 

The  love  of  Christ  has  to  come  to  sinful  men  with 
patient  pleading  and  remonstrance,  that  it  may  enter  their 
hearts  and  give  its  blessings.  Some  of  you  may  remem- 
ber a  modern  work  of  art  in  which  that  long  suffering 
appeal  is  wonderfully  portrayed.  He  who  is  the  Light 
of  the  World  stands,  girded  with  the  royal  mantle  clasped 
with  the  priestly  breastplate,  bearing  in  His  hand  the 
lamp  of  truth,  and  there,  amidst  the  dew  of  night  and  the 
rank  hemlock.  He  pleads  for  entrance  at  the  closed  door 
which  has  no  handle  on  its  outer  side,  and  is  hinged  to 
open  only  from  within.  "I  stand  at  the  door,  and 
knock.     If  any  man  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in." 

And  in  this  incident  before  us,  we  see  represented  not 
only  the  endless  patience  of  God's  pitying  love,  but  the 
method  which  it  needs  to  take  in  order  to  reach  the 
heart 

There  is  an  appeal  to  the  traitor's  heart,  and  an  appeal 
to  his  conscience.  Christ  would  have  him  think  of  the 
relations  that  have  so  long  subsisted  between  them ;  and 
He  would  have  him  think,  too,  of  the  real  nature  of  the 
deed  he  is  doing,  or,  perhaps,  of  the  motives  that  impel 
him.  The  grave  sad  word,  by  which  He  addresses 
him,  is  meant  to  smite  upon  his  heart  The  sharp 
question  which  He  puts  to  him  is  meant  to  wake  up 
his  conscience;  and  both  taken  together  represent  the 
two  chief  classes  of  remonstrance  which  He  brings  to 
bear  upon  us  all — the  two  great  batteries  from  which  He 
assails  the  fortre*^  of  our  sins. 


334  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE,  [sERM. 

There  is  first,  then — Chris fs  appeal  to  the  heart.  He 
tries  to  make  him  feel  the  considerations  that  should 
restrain  him.  The  appellation  by  which  our  Lord  addresses 
Judas  does  not  in  the  original  convey  quite  so  strongly 
the  idea  of  amity,  as  our  word  "  Friend  "  does.  It  is  not 
the  same  as  that  which  He  had  used  a  few  hours  before 
in  the  upper  chamber,  when  He  said,  "  Henceforth  I  call 
you  not  servants,  but  I  have  called  you  friends. — Ye  are 
my  friends  if  ye  do  whatsoever  I  command  you."  It  is 
the  same  as  is  put  into  the  lips  of  the  Lord  of  the  vine- 
yard, remonstrating  with  his  jealous  labourers,  "Friend, 
I  do  thee  no  wrong."  There  is  a  tone  then  of  less 
intimate  association  and  graver  rebuke  in  it  than  in  that 
name  with  which  He  honours  those  who  make  His  will 
t-heirs,  and  His  word  the  law  of  their  lives.  It  does  not 
speak  of  close  confidence,  but  it  does  suggest  companion- 
ship and  kindness  on  the  part  of  the  speaker.  There 
is  rebuke  in  it,  but  it  is  rebuke  which  derives  its  whole 
force  from  the  remembrance  of  ancient  concord  and 
connection.  Our  Lord  would  recall  to  the  memory  of 
the  betrayer  the  days  in  which  they  had  taken  sweet 
counsel  together.  It  is  as  if  he  had  said — "  Hast  thou 
forgotten  all  our  former  intercourse?  Thou  hast  eaten 
my  bread,  thou  hast  been  mine  own  familiar  friend,  in 
whom  I  trusted — canst  thou  lift  up  thy  heel  against 
me  ?  "  What  happy  hours  of  quiet  fellowship  on  many  a 
journey,  of  rest  together  after  many  a  day  of  toil,  what 
forgotten  tlioughts  of  the  loving  devotion  and  the  glow  of 
glad  consecration  that  He  had  once  felt,  what  a  long 
series  of  proofs  of  Christ's  gentle  goodness  and  meek 


XXI.]  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE,  335 

wisdom  should  have  sprung  again  to  remembrance  at 
such  an  appeal !  And  how  black  and  dastardly  would 
his  guilt  have  seemed  if  once  he  had  ventured  to  remem- 
ber what  unexampled  friendship  he  was  sinning  against ! 

Is  it  not  so  with  us  all,  dear  brethren  ?  All  our  evils 
are  betrayals  of  Christ,  and  all  our  betrayals  of  Christ  are 
sins  against  a  perfect  friendship  and  an  unvaried  good- 
ness. We,  too,  have  sat  at  His  table,  heard  His  wisdom, 
seen  His  miracles,  listened  to  His  pleadings,  have  had  a 
place  in  His  heart ;  and  if  we  turn  away  from  Him  to  do 
our  own  pleasure,  and  sell  His  love  for  a  handful  of  sil- 
ver, we  need  not  cherish  shuddering  abhorrence  against 
that  poor  wretch  who  gave  Him  up  to  the  cross.  Oh ! 
if  we  could  see  aright,  we  should  see  our  Saviour's  meek, 
sad  face  standing  between  us  and  each  of  our  sins,  with 
warning  in  the  pitying  eyes,  and  His  pleading  voice 
would  sound  in  our  ears,  appealing  to  us  by  loving  re- 
membrances of  His  ancient  friendship  to  turn  from  the 
evil  which  is  treason  against  Him,  and  wounds  His  heart 
as  much  as  it  harms  ours.  Take  heed  lest  in  condemn- 
ing the  traitor  we  doom  ourselves.  If  we  flush  into 
anger  at  the  meanness  of  his  crime,  and  declare,  "  He 
shall  surely  die,"  do  we  not  hear  a  prophet's  voice 
saying  to  each,  **  Thou  art  the  man  "  ? 

The  loving  hand  laid  on  the  heart  strings  is  followed 
by  a  strong  stroke  on  conscience.  The  heart  vibrates  most 
readily  in  answer  to  gentle  touches  :  the  conscience  in 
answer  to  heavier,  as  the  breath  that  wakes  the  chords 
of  an  ^olian  harp  would  pass  silent  through  the  brass 
of  a  trumpet.     "Wherefore  art  thou  come?" — if  to  be 


336  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE,  [SERM. 

taken  as  a  question  at  all,  which,  as  I  have  said,  seems 
most  natural,  is  either,  "What  hast  thou  come  to  do?" — 
or,  "  Why  hast  thou  come  to  do  it  ?  "  Perhaps  it  may  be 
fairly  taken  as  including  both.  But,  at  all  events,  it  is 
clearly  an  appeal  to  Judas  to  make  him  see  what  his 
conduct  really  is  in  itself,  and  possibly  in  its  motive  too. 
And  this  is  the  constant  effort  of  the  love  of  Christ — to 
get  us  to  say  to  ourselves  the  real  name  of  what  Rre  ar^ 
about. 

We  cloak  our  sins  from  ourselves  with  many  jvrap- 
pings,  as  they  swathe  a  mummy  in  voluminous  folds. 
And  of  these  veils,  one  of  the  thickest  is  woven  by  our 
misuse  of  words  to  describe  the  very  same  thing  by 
different  names,  according  as  we  do  it,  or  another  man 
does  it.  Almost  all  moral  actions — the  thing  to  which 
we  can  apply  the  words  right  or  wrong — have  two  or 
more  names,  of  which  the  one  suggests  the  better  and  the 
other  the  worse  side  of  the  action.  For  instance,  what  in 
ourselves  we  call  prudent  regard  for  our  own  interest,  we 
call,  in  our  neighbour,  narrow  selfishness  j  what  in  our- 
selves is  laudable  economy,  in  him  is  miserable  avarice. 
We  are  impetuous,  he  is  passionate;  we  generous,  he 
lavish ;  we  are  clever  men  of  business,  he  is  a  rogue ;  we 
sow  our  wild  oats  and  are  gay,  he  is  dissipated.  So  we 
cheat  ourselves  by  more  than  half-transparent  veils  of 
our  own  manufacture,  which  we  fling  round  the  ugly 
features  and  misshapen  limbs  of  these  sins  of  ours,  and 
we  are  made  more  than  ever  their  bond-slaves  thereby. 

Therefore,  it  is  the  office  of  the  truest  love  to  force  us 
to  look  at  the  thing  as  it  is.     It  would  go  some  way  to 


XXI.]  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE.  337 

keep  a  man  from  some  of  his  sins  if  he  would  give  the 
thing  its  real  name.  A  distinct  conscious  statement  to 
oneself,  "  now  I  am  going  to  tell  a  lie  " — "  this  that  I  am 
doing  is  fraud  " — "  this  emotion  that  I  feel  creeping  with 
devilish  warmth  about  the  roots  of  my  heart  is  re- 
venge " — and  so  on,  would  surely  startle  us  sometimes, 
and  make  us  fling  tlie  gliding  poison  from  our  breast,  as 
a  man  would  a  snake  that  he  found  just  lifting  its  head 
from  the  bosom  of  his  robe.  Suppose  Judas  had 
answered  the  question,  and,  gathering  himself  up,  had 
looked  his  Master  in  the  face,  and  said — "  What  have  I 
come  for ? "  "I  have  come  to  betray  thee  for  thirty 
pieces  of  silver."  Do  you  not  think  that  putting  his 
guilt  into  words  might  have  moved  even  him  to  more 
salutary  feelings  than  the  remorse  which  afterwards 
accompanied  his  tardy  discernment  of  what  he  had 
done? 

So  the  patient  love  of  Christ  comes  rebuking,  and 
smiting  hard  on  conscience.  "The  grace  of  God  that 
bringeth  salvation  to  all  men  hath  appeared  disci- 
plining " — and  His  hand  is  never  more  gentle  than  when 
it  plucks  away  the  films  with  which  we  hide  our  sins 
from  ourselves,  and  shows  us  the  "  rottenness  and  dead 
men's  bones  "  beneath  the  whited  walls  of  the  sepulchres 
and  the  velvet  of  the  coffins. 

He  must  begin  with  rebukes  that  He  may  advance  to 
blessing.  He  must  teach  us  what  is  separating  us  from 
Him  that,  learning  it,  we  may  flee  to  His  grace  to  help 
as.  There  is  no  entrance  for  the  truest  gifts  of  His 
patient  love  into  any  heart  that  haa  not  yielded  to  His 

I  Y 


:,i^  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE,         [SERM. 

pleading  remonstrance,  and  in  lowly  penitence  has 
answered  His  question  as  He  would  have  us  answer  it, 
"Friend  and  lover  of  my  soul!  I  have  sinned  against 
thy  tender  heart,  against  the  unexampled  patience  of  thy 
love.  I  have  departed  from  thee  and  betrayed  thee. 
Blessed  be  thy  merciful  voice  which  hath  taught  me 
what  I  have  done !  Blessed  be  thine  unwearied  goodness 
which  still  bends  over  me !  Raise  me  fallen,  forgive  me 
treacherous!  Keep  me  safe  and  happy,  ever  true  and 
near  to  thee!" 

III.  Notice  The  FosHble  Rejection  of  the  Pleading  of 
Chrisfs  Patient  Love. 

Even  that  appeal  was  vain.  Here  we  are  confronted 
with  a  plain  instance  of  man's  mysterious  and  awful 
power  of  "  frustrating  the  counsel  of  God" — of  which  one 
knows  not  whether  is  greater,  the  difficulty  of  under- 
standing how  a  finite  will  can  rear  itself  against  the 
infinite  will,  or  the  mournful  mystery  that  a  creature 
should  desire  to  set  itself  against  its  loving  maker  and 
benefactor.  But  strange  as  it  is,  yet  so  it  is  ;  and  we  can 
turn  round  upon  Sovereign  Fatherhood  bidding  us  to  His 
service  and  say,  " / will not'^  He  pleads  with  us,  and 
we  can  resist  His  pleadings.  He  holds  out  the  mercies 
of  His  hands  and  the  gifts  of  His  grace,  and  we  can  re- 
ject them.  We  cannot  cease  to  be  the  objects  of  His 
love,  but  we  can  refuse  to  be  the  recipients  of  its  most 
precious  gifts.  We  can  bar  our  hearts  against  it  Then, 
of  what  avail  is  it  to  us?  To  go  back  to  an  earlier 
illustration,  the  sunshine  pours  down  and  Hoods  a  world, 
what  does  that  matter  to  us  if  we   have  fastened  up 


XXl]  the  last  pleading  of  love.  339 

shutters  on  all  our  windows,  and  barred  every  crevice 
through  which  the  streaming  gladness  can  find  its  way  ? 
We  shall  grope  at  noontide  as  in  the  dark  within  our 
gloomy  house,  while  our  neighbours  have  light  in  theirs. 
What  matters  it  though  we  float  in  the  great  ocean  of  the 
Divine  Love,  if  with  pitch  and  canvas  we  have  carefiilly 
closed  every  aperture  at  which  the  flood  can  enter  ?  A 
hermetically  closed  jar,  plunged  in  the  Atlantic,  will  be 
as  dry  inside  as  if  it  were  lying  on  the  sand  of  the  desert. 
It  is  possible  to  perish  of  thirst  within  sight  of  the 
fountain.  It  is  possible  to  separate  ourselves  from  the 
love  of  God,  not  to  separate  the  love  of  God  from  our- 
selves. 

The  incident  before  us  carries  another  solemn  lesson 
— ^how  simple  and  easy  a  thing  it  is  to  repel  that  pleading 
love.  What  did  Judas  do?  Nothing;  it  was  enough. 
He  merely  held  his  peace — no  more.  There  was  no 
need  for  him  to  break  out  with  oaths  and  curses,  to  reject 
his  Lord  with  wild  words.  Silence  was  sufl[icient.  And 
for  us — no  more  is  required.  We  have  but  to  be  passive; 
we  have  but  to  stand  still.  Not  to  accept  is  to  refuse ; 
non-submission  is  rebellion.  We  do  not  need  to  emphas- 
ize our  refusal  by  any  action — no  need  to  lift  our  clenched 
hands  in  defiance.  We  have  simply  to  put  them  behind 
our  backs,  or  to  keep  them  folded.  The  closed  hand 
must  remain  an  empty  hand.  "  He  that  believeth  not  is 
condenmed."  My  friend,  remember  that,  when  Christ 
pleads  and  draws,  to  do  nothing  is  to  oppose,  and  to 
delay  is  to  refuse.  It  is  a  very  easy  matter  to  ruin  your 
louL     You  have  simply  to  keep  still  when   He  says 


34©  THR  LAST  PLEADING  OF  lOVF.  [SEIUI. 

"Come  unto  me" — to  keep  yomr  eyes  fixed  where  they 
were,  when  He  says,  "  Look  unto  me,  and  be  ye  saved." 
And  all  the  rest  will  follow  of  itself. 

Notice,  too,  how  the  appeal  of  Chnst's  love  hardens 
wheie  it  does  not  soften.  That  gentle  voice  drove  the 
traitor  nearer  the  verge  over  which  he  fell  into  a  gulf  of 
despair.  It  should  have  drawn  him  closer  to  the  I^rd, 
but  he  recoiled  from  it,  and  was  thereby  brought  nearer 
destruction.  Every  pleading  of  Christ's  grace,  whether 
by  providences,  or  by  books,  or  by  His  own  word,  does 
something  with  us.  It  is  never  vain.  Either  it  melts  or 
it  hardens.  The  sun  either  scatters  the  summer  morning 
mists,  or  it  rolls  them  into  heavier  folds,  from  whose  livid 
depths  the  lightning  is  flashing  by  mid-day.  You  cannot 
come  near  the  most  inadequate  exhibition  of  the  pardon- 
ing iove  of  Christ  without  being  either  drawn  closer  to 
Him  or  driven  further  from  Him.  Each  act  of  rejection 
prepares  the  way  for  another,  which  will  be  easier,  and 
adds  another  film  to  the  darkness  which  covers  your  eyes, 
another  layer  to  the  hardness  which  encrusts  your  hearts. 

Again,  that  silence,  so  eloquent  and  potent  in  its  influ- 
ence, was  probably  the  silence  of  a  man  whose  conscience 
was  convicted  while  his  will  was  unchanged.  Such  a 
condition  is  possible.  It  points  to  soleiun  thoughts,  and 
to  deep  mysteries  in  man's  awful  nature.  He  knew  that 
he  was  wrong,  he  had  no  excuse,  his  deed  was  before  him 
in  some  measure  in  its  true  character,  and  yet  he  would 
not  give  it  up.  Such  a  state,  if  constant  and  complete, 
presents  the  most  frightful  picture  we  can  frame  of  a  soui 
That  a  man  thall  not  be  able  to  say,  *'  I  did  it  ignorantly  % 


XXI.]  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE.  341 

that  Chnst  shall  not  be  able  to  ground  his  intercession 
on,  "  They  know  not  what  they  do  "  ;  that  with  full  know- 
ledge of  the  true  nature  of  the  deed,  there  shall  be  no 
wavering  of  the  determination  to  do  it;  we  may  well 
turn  with  terror  from  such  an  awful  abyss.  But  let  us 
remember  that,  whether  such  a  condition  in  its  complete- 
ness is  conceivable  or  not,  at  all  events  we  may  approach 
it  indefinitely ;  and  we  do  approach  it  by  every  sin,  and 
by  every  refusal  to  yield  to  the  love  that  would  touch  our 
consciences  and  fill  our  hearts. 

Have  you  ever  noticed  what  a  remarkable  verbal 
correspondence  there  is  between  these  words  of  our  text, 
and  some  other  very  solemn  ones  of  Chrisfs?  The 
question  that  He  puts  into  the  lips  of  the  king  who  came 
in  to  see  his  guests  is  "  Friend,  hew  earnest  thou  in  hither, 
not  having  on  a  wedding  garment  ?"  The  question  asked 
on  earth  shall  be  repeated  again  at  last  The  silence 
which  indicated  a  convinced  conscience  and  an  un- 
changed will  may  indicate  at  that  day  both  of  these  and 
hopelessness  beside. 

And  the  clear  vision  of  the  Divine  love,  if  it  do  not 
flood  the  heart  with  joy  and  evoke  the  bliss  of  answering 
love,  may  fill  it  with  bitterness.  It  is  possible  that  the 
same  revelation  of  the  same  grace  may  be  the  heaven  of 
heaven  to  those  who  welcome  it,  and  the  pain  of  hell  to 
those  who  turn  from  it  It  is  possible  that  love  believed 
and  received  may  be  life,  and  love  recognized  and  reject- 
ed may  be  death.  It  is  possible  that  the  vision  of  the 
same  face  may  make  lome  break  forth  with  the  rapturous 
hynm,  "  Lo,  this  is  onr  God,  we  have  waited  fior  him  t* 


342  THE  LAST  PLEADING  OF  LOVE, 

and  make  others  call  on  the  hills  to  fall  on  them  and 
cover  them  from  its  brighiness. 

But  let  us  not  end  with  such  words.  Rather,  dear 
brethren,  let  us  yield  to  His  patient  bcseechings  \  let  Him 
teach  us  our  evil  and  our  sin.  Listen  to  His  great  love 
who  invites  us  to  plead,  and  promises  to  pardon — "Come 
now,  and  let  us  reason  together,  saith  the  Lord  :  though 
your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be  as  white  as  snow ; 
though  they  be  red  like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wooL" 


343 


SERMON    XXII, 

SOLDIER    PRIESTS. 


Psalm  cx,  3. 

Thy  people  shall  be  willing  in  the  day  of  thy  po^rr.  in  the  beauties 
of  holiness,  from  the  womb  of  the  morning- :  thou  nasi  the  dew  of  thy 
youth. 

TT  is  no  part  of  my  present  purpose  to  establish  the 
reference   of  this   Psalm   to   our   Lord.     We  have 
Christ's  own  authority  for  that. 

It  does  not  seem  to  be  typical — that  is  to  say,  it  does 
not  appear  to  have  had  a  lower  application  to  a  King  of 
Israel  who  was  a  shadow  of  the  true  monarch,  but  rather 
to  refer  only  to  the  coming  Sovereign,  whom  David  was 
helped  to  discern,  indeed,  by  his  own  regal  office,  but 
whose  office  and  character,  as  here  set  forth,  far  surpass 
anything  belonging  to  him  or  to  his  dynasty.  The 
attributes  of  the  King,  the  union  in  His  case  of  the  royal 
and  priestly  dignities,  His  seat  at  the  right  hand  of  God 
His  acknowledged  supremacy  over  the  greatest  Jewish 
ruler,  who  here  calls  Him  "my  Lord,"  His  eternal 
dominion,  His  conquest  of  many  nations,  and  His  lifting 
up  of  His  head  in  triumphant  rule  that  knows  no  end — 


344  SOLDIEK    i  RIESTS.  [SERM. 

all  these  characteristics  seem  to  forbid  the  possibility  of  a 
double  reference,  and  to  demand  the  acknowledgment  of 
a  distinct  and  exclusive  prophecy  of  Christ. 

Taking  that  for  granted  without  more  words,  it  strikes 
one  as  remarkable  that  this  description  of  the  subjects 
of  the  Priest-King  should  be  thus  imbedded  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  grand  portraiture  of  the  monarch  Himself 
It  is  the  anticipation  of  the  profound  New  Testament 
thought  of  the  unity  of  Christ  and  His  church.  By 
simple  faith  a  union  is  brought  about  so  close  and 
intimate  that  all  His  is  theirs,  and  the  picture  of  His  glory 
is  incomplete  without  the  vision  of  "  the  church,  which  is 
his  body,  the  fulness  of  him  that  filleth  all  in  all"  There- 
fore, between  the  word  of  God  which  elevates  Him  to 
His  right  hand,  and  the  oath  of  God  which  consecrates 
Him  a  priest  for  ever,  is  this  description  of  the  army  of 
the  King. 

The  full  force  of  the  words  will,  I  hope,  appear  as  we 
advance.  For  the  present  it  will  be  enough  to  say  that 
there  are  really  in  our  text  three  co-ordinate  clauses,  all 
descriptive  of  the  subjects  of  the  monarch,  regarded  as  a 
band  of  warriors — and  that  tlie  main  ideas  are  these :  the 
subjects  are  willing  soldiers ;  the  soldiers  are  priests;  the 
priest-soldiers  are  as  dew  upon  the  earth.  Or,  in  other 
words,  we  have  here  the  very  heart  of  the  Christian 
character  set  forth  as  being  willing  consecration ;  then  we 
have  the  work  which  Christian  men  have  to  do,  and  the 
spirit  in  which  they  are  to  do  it,  expressed  in  that  meta- 
phor of  their  priestly  attire;  and  then  we  have  theii 
refreshing  and  quickening  influence  upon  the  world. 


xxil]  soldier  priests.  345 

I.   The  subjects  of  the  Priest-King  are  willi?ig  soldiers. 

In  accordance  with  the  warlike  tone  of  the  whole  Psalm, 
our  text  describes  the  subjects  as  an  army.  That  military 
metaphor  comes  out  more  clearly  when  we  attach  the 
true  meaning  to  the  words,  "  in  the  day  of  thy  power." 
The  word  rendered,  and  rightly  rendered,  "  power,"  has 
the  same  ambiguity  which  that  word  has  in  the  English 
of  the  date  of  our  translation,  and  for  a  century  later,  as 
you  may  find  in  Shakespeare  and  Milton,  who  both  used 
it  in  the  sense  of  "army."  Singularly  enough  we  do  not 
employ  "powers"  in  that  meaning,  but  we  do  another 
word  which  means  the  same  thing — and  talk  of  "forces," 
meaning  thereby  "troops."  By  the  way,  what  a  melan- 
choly sign  it  is  of  the  predominance  of  that  infernal 
military  spirit,  that  it  should  have  so  leavened  language, 
that  the  "  forces  "  of  a  nation  means  its  soldiers,  its  em- 
battled energies  turned  to  the  work  of  destruction.  But 
the  phrase  is  so  used  here.  "  The  day  of  thy  power  "  is 
not  a  mere  synonym  for  "the  time  of  thy  might,"  but 
means  specifically  "  the  day  of  thine  army,"  that  is,  "  the 
day  when  thou  dost  muster  thy  forces  and  set  them  in 
array  for  the  war." 

The  King  is  going  forth  to  conquest.  But  He  goes 
not  alone.  Behind  Him  comes  His  faithful  followers,  all 
pressing  on  with  willing  hearts  and  high  courage.  Then, 
to  begin  with,  the  warfare  which  He  wages  is  one  not 
confined  to  Him.  Alone  He  offers  the  sacrifice  which 
He  atones ;  but,  as  we  shall  see,  we  too  are  priests.  He 
rules,  and  His  servants  rule  with  Him.  But  ere  that  time 
comes,  they  are  to  be  joined  with  Hirn  in  the  great  war- 


346  SOLDIER  PRIESTS.  [SERM. 

fare  by  which  He  wins  the  earth  for  Himself.  "As 
Captain  of  the  Lord's  host  am  I  now  come."  He  wins 
no  conquests  for  Himself;  and  now  that  He  is  exalted  at 
God's  right  hand,  He  wins  none  by  Himself.  We  have 
to  do  His  work,  we  have  to  fight  His  battles  as  good 
soldiers  of  Jesus  Christ.  By  power  derived  from  Him, 
but  wielded  by  ourselves;  with  courage  inspired  by  Him, 
but  filling  our  hearts ;  not  as  though  He  needed  us,  but, 
inasmuch  as  He  is  pleased  to  use  us,  we  have  to  wage 
warfare  for  and  to  please  Him  who  hath  chosen  us  to  be 
soldiers.  The  Captain  of  our  Salvation  sits  at  the  right 
hand  of  God,  expecting  till  His  enemies  be  made  His 
footstool.  He  has  bidden  us  to  keep  the  field  and  fight 
the  fight  From  His  height  He  watches  the  conflict — 
nay,  He  is  with  us  while  we  wage  it  So  long  as  we  strike 
for  Him,  so  long  is  it  His  power  that  teaches  our  hands 
to  war.  Our  King's  flag  is  committed  to  our  care ;  but 
we  are  not  left  to  defend  it  alone.  In  indissoluble  unity, 
the  King  and  the  subjects,  the  Chief  and  His  vassals,  the 
Captain  and  His  soldiers,  are  knit  together — and  where- 
soever His  people  are,  in  all  the  danger  and  hardships  of 
the  long  struggle,  there  is  He,  to  keep  their  heads  in  the 
day  of  battle,  and  make  them  more  than  conquerors. 

Then,  again,  that  warfare  is  shared  in  by  all  the  subjects. 
It  is  a  levy  eii  masse — an  armed  nation.  The  whole  of 
the  people  are  embodied  for  the  battle.  It  is  not  the 
work  of  a  select  few,  but  of  every  one  who  calls  Christ 
Lord,  to  be  His  faithful  servant  and  soldier.  Whatever 
varieties  of  occupation  may  be  set  us  by  Him,  one  pur- 
pose is  to  be  kept  in  view  and  one  end  to  be  eflfected  by 


XXII.]  SOLDIER  PRIESTS.  34/ 

ihem  all  Every  Christian  man  is  bound  to  strive  for  the 
reduction  of  all  human  hearts  under  Christ's  dominion. 
The  tasks  may  be  different,  but  the  result  should  be  one. 
Some  of  us  have  to  toil  in  the  trenches,  some  of  us  to 
guard  the  camp,  some  to  lead  the  assault,  some  to  stay  by 
the  stuff  and  keep  the  communications  open.  Be  it  so. 
We  are  all  soldiers,  and  He  only  has  to  determine  our 
work.  We  are  responsible  for  the  spirit  of  it,  He  for  its 
success. 

Again,  tlKre  are  no  mercenaries  in  these  rank*v  no 
pressed  men.  The  soldiers  are  all  volunteers.  '-Thy 
people  shall  be  willing."  Pause  for  a  moment  upon  that 
thought 

Dear  brethren,  there  are  two  kinds  of  submission  and 
service.  There  is  submission  because  you  cannot  help 
it,  and  there  is  submission  because  you  like  it  There  is 
a  sullen  bowing  down  beneath  the  weight  of  a  hand 
which  you  are  too  feeble  to  resist,  and  there  is  a  glad 
surrender  to  a  love  which  it  would  be  a  pain  not  to  obey. 
Some  of  us  feel  that  we  are  shut  in  by  immense  and 
sovereign  power  which  we  cannot  oppose.  And  yet,  like 
some  raging  rebel  in  a  dungeon,  or  some  fluttering  bird 
in  a  cage,  we  beat  ourselves  all  bruised  and  bloody  against 
the  bars  in  vain  attempts  at  liberty,  alternating  with  fits 
of  cowed  apathy  as  we  slink  into  a  comer  of  our  cell. 
Some  of  us,  thank  God!  feel  that  we  are  enclosed  on 
every  side  by  that  mighty  hand  which  none  can  resist, 
and  from  which  we  would  not  stray  if  we  could,  and  we 
jo)rfully  hide  beneath  its  shelter,  and  gladly  obey  when 
h  points.    The  constrained  obedience  is  no  obedience. 


34^  SOLDIER  PRIESTS.  [SERM. 

Unless  there  be  the  glad  surrender  of  the  will  and  heart, 
there  is  no  surrender  at  all  God  does  not  want  com- 
pulsory submission.  He  does  not  care  to  rule  over 
people  who  are  only  crushed  down  by  greater  power. 
He  does  not  count  that  those  serve  who  sullenly  acquiesce 
because  they  dare  not  oppose.  Christ  seeks  for  no 
pressed  men  in  His  ranks.  Whosoever  does  not  enlist 
joyfully  is  not  reckoned  as  His.  And  the  question  comes 
to  us,  brethren — what  is  my  relation  to  that  loving  Lord, 
to  that  redeemer  King  ?  Do  I  submit  because  His  love 
has  won  my  heart,  and  it  would  be  a  pang  not  to  serve 
Him ;  or,  do  I  submit  because  I  know  Him  strong,  and 
am  afraid  to  refuse  ?  If  the  former,  all  is  well ;  He  calls 
us  not  servants,  but  friends.  If  the  latter,  all  is  wrong ; 
we  are  not  subjects,  but  enemies. 

There  is  another  idea  involved  in  this  description. 
The  soldiers  are  not  only  marked  by  glad  obedience,  but 
that  obedience  rests  upon  the  sacrifice  of  themselves. 
The  word  here  rendered  "  willing"  is  employed  throughout 
tlie  Levitical  law  for  "  freewill  offerings."  And  if  we  may 
venture  to  bring  that  reference  in  here,  it  carries  us  a  step 
farther  in  this  characterization  of  the  army.  This  glad 
submission  comes  from  self-consecration  and  surrender. 
It  is  in  that  host  as  it  was  in  the  army  whose  heroic  self- 
devotion  was  chaunted  by  Deborah  under  her  palm  tree, 
"  The  people  willingly  offered  themselves."  Hence  came 
courage,  devotion,  victory.  With  their  lives  in  their 
hands  they  flung  themselves  on  the  foe,  and  nothing 
could  stand  against  the  onset  of  men  who  recked  not  of 
themselves.     There  is  one  grand  thing  even  about  the 


XXII.]  SOLDIER  PRIESTS,  349 

devilry  of  war — the  transcendent  self-abnegation  with 
which,  however  poor  and  unworthy  may  be  the  cause,  a 
man  casts  himself  away,  "  what  time  the  foeman's  line  is 
broke."  The  poorest,  vulgarest,  most  animal  natures 
rise  for  a  moment  into  something  like  nobility,  as  the 
surge  of  the  strong  emotion  lifts  them  to  that  height  of 
heroism.  Life  is  then  most  glorious  when  it  is  given 
Away  for  a  great  cause.  That  sacrifice  is  the  one  noble 
And  chivalrous  element  which  gives  interest  to  war — the 
^ne  thing  that  can  be  disentangled  from  its  hideous 
Associations,  and  can  be  transferred  to  higher  regions  of 
itfe.  That  spirit  of  lofty  consecration  and  utter  self- 
forgetfulness  must  be  ours,  if  we  would  be  Christ's 
soldiers.  Our  obedience  will  then  be  glad  when  we  feel 
the  force  of,  and  yield  to,  that  gentle  persuasive  entreaty, 
"  I  beseech  you,  brethren,  by  the  mercies  of  God,  that  ye 
present  your  bodies  a  living  sacrifice."  There  is  one 
sacrifice  for  sin  for  ever — which  never  can  be  repeated, 
nor  exhausted,  nor  copied.  And  the  loving  faithful 
acceptance  of  that  sacrifice  of  propitiation  leads  our 
hearts  to  the  response  of  thank-offering,  the  sacrifice  and 
surrender  of  ourselves  to  Him  who  has  given  Himself  not 
only  to,  but  for  us.  It  cannot  be  recompensed,  but  it 
may  be  acknowledged.  Let  us  give  ourselves  to  Christ, 
for  He  has  died  for  us.  Let  us  give  ourselves  to  Christ, 
for  only  in  such  surrender  do  we  truly  find  ourselves. 
Let  us  give  ourselves  to  Christ,  for  such  a  sacrifice  makes 
all  life  fair  and  noble,  and  that  altar  sanctifies  the  gift 
Let  us  give  ourselves  to  Christ,  for  without  such  sacrifice 
we  have  no  place  in  the  host  whom  He  leads  to  victory. 


iS'=>  SOLDIER  FRIESrS.  [s.vk:.;: 

"  Thy  people  shall  be  willing  offerings  in  the  day  of  th) 
power." 

Still  further,  another  remarkable  idea  may  be  connected 
with  this  word.  By  a  natural  transition,  of  which  illustra- 
tions may  be  found  in  other  languages,  it  comes  to  mean 
"/r^^,"  and  also  '' noblu'  As,  for  instance,  it  is  used  in 
the  fifty-first  Psalm,  "  Uphold  me  with  thy  free  spirit " — 
and  in  the  forty-seventh,  "  The  prirues  of  the  people  are 
gathered  togL-ther."  And  does  not  this  shading  of 
significations — willing,  sacrifices,  free,  princely — remind 
us  of  another  distinctly  evangelical  principle,  that  the 
willing  service  which  rests  upon  glad  consecration  raises 
him  who  renders  it  to  true  freedom  and  dominion? 
Every  man  enlisted  in  His  body-guard  is  noble.  The 
Prince's  servants  are  every-  other  person's  master.  The 
King's  livery  exempts  from  all  other  submission.  As  in 
the  old  Saxon  monarchies,  the  monarch's  domestics  were 
nobles,  the  men  of  Christ's  household  are  ennobled  by 
their  service.  They  who  obey  Him  are  free  from  every 
yoke  of  bondage — "free  indeed."  All  things  serve  the 
soul  thai  serves  Christ  **  He  hath  made  us  kings  unto 
God." 

n.    Tht  Soldiers  are  Priests. 

That  expression,  "in  the  beauties  of  holiness,"  is 
usually  read  as  if  it  belonged  either  to  the  words 
immediately  preceding,  or  to  those  immediately  follow- 
ing. But  in  either  case  the  connection  is  somewhat 
difficult  and  obscure.  It  seems  better  regarded  as  a 
distinct  and  separate  clause,  adding  a  fresh  trait  to  the 
dcflcripUon  of  the  army.    And  whi^t  that  ii  we  need  not 


XXII.]  SOLDIER  PRIESTS.  35 ^ 

find  any  difficulty  in  ascertaining.  "  The  beauties  of  holi 
ness "  is  a  frequent  phrase  for  the  sacerdotal  garments, 
the  holy  festal  attire  of  the  priests  of  the  Lord.  So  con 
sidered,  how  beautifully  it  comes  in  here.  The  conquer 
ing  King  whom  the  Psalm  hymns  is  a  Priest  for  ever  \ 
and  He  is  followed  by  an  army  of  priests.  The  soldiers 
are  gathered  in  the  day  of  the  muster,  with  high  courage 
and  willing  devotion,  ready  to  fling  away  their  lives ;  but 
they  are  clad  not  in  mail,  but  m  priestly  robes — like  those 
who  wait  before  the  altar  rather  than  like  those  who 
])lunge  into  the  fight — like  those  who  compassed  Jericho 
with  the  ark  for  their  standard,  and  the  trumpets  for  all 
their  weapons.  We  can  scarcely  fail  to  remember  the 
words  which  echo  these  and  interpret  them.  "The 
armies  which  were  in  heaven  followed  him  on  white  horses, 
clothed  in  fine  Imen,  white  and  clean" — ^  strange  armour 
against  sword-cut  and  spear-thrust 

The  main  purpose,  then,  of  this  part  of  our  text  seems 
to  be  to  bring  out  the  priestly  character  of  the  Christian 
soldier — ^a  thought  which  carries  with  it  many  important 
considerations,  on  which  I  can  barely  touch. 

Mark^  then,  how  tlie  welfare  which  we  have  to  wage  is 
tlie  same  as  the  priestly  service  which  we  have  to  render. 
The  conflict  is  with  our  own  sin  and  evil ;  the  sacrifice 
we  have  to  offer  is  ourselves.  As  soldiers,  we  have  to 
fight  against  our  selfish  desires  and  manifold  imperfec- 
dons ;  as  priests,  we  have  to  lay  our  whole  being  on  His 
altar.  The  task  is  the  same  under  either  emblem.  And 
we  have  a  conflict  to  wage  in  the  world,  and  in  the  world 
we  have  a  priestly  work  to  do,  and  these  are  the  same. 


35*  SOLDIER  PRIESTS,  [l 


We  have  to  be  God's  representatives  in  the  world, 
bringing  Him  nearer  to  men's  apprehensions  and  hearts 
by  word  and  work.  We  have  to  bring  men  to  God  by 
entreaty,  and  by  showing  the  path  which  leads  to  Him. 
That  priestly  service  for  men  is  in  effect  identical  with 
the  merciful  warfare  which  we  have  to  wage  in  the  world. 
The  church  militant  is  an  army  of  priests.  Its  warfare  is 
its  sacerdotal  function.  It  fights  for  Christ  when  it 
opposes  the  message  of  His  grace  and  the  power  of  His 
blood  to  its  own  and  the  world's  sins — and  when  it  inter- 
cedes in  the  secret  place  for  the  coming  of  His  kingdom. 
Does  not  this  metaphor  teach  us  also,  what  is  to  be  our 
defence  and  our  weapon  in  this  warfare  ?  Not  with  gar- 
ments rolled  in  blood,  nor  with  brazen  armour  do  they 
go  forth,  who  follow  Him  that  conquered  by  dying. 
Their  uniform  is  the  beauties  of  holiness,  "  the  fine  linen 
clean  and  white,  which  is  the  righteousness  of  saints." 
Many  great  thoughts  lie  in  such  words,  which  I  must 
pass  over.  But  this  one  thing  is  obvious — that  the  great 
power  which  we,  Christian  men,  are  to  wield  in  our 
loving  warfare  is — character.  Purity  of  heart  and  life, 
transparent  simple  goodness,  manifest  in  men's  sight — 
these  will  arm  us  against  dangers,  and  these  will  bring 
our  brethren  glad  captives  to  our  Lord.  We  serve  Him 
best,  and  advance  His  kingdom  most,  when  the  habit  of 
our  souls  is  that  righteousness  with  which  He  invests  our 
nakedness.  Be  like  your  Lord,  and  as  His  soldiers  you 
w^ll  conquer,  and  as  His  priests  you  will  win  some  to  His 
love  and  fear.  Nothing  else  will  avail  without  that. 
Without  that  dress  no  man  finds  a  place  in  the  ranks. 


-CXII.]  SOLDIER  PRIESTS.  353 

The  image  suggests,  too,  the  spirit  in  which  our  priestly 
warfare  is  to  be  waged.  The  one  metaphor  brings  with 
it  thoughts  of  strenuous  effort,  of  discipline,  of  sworn 
consecration  to  a  cause.  The  other  brings  with  it 
thoughts  of  gentleness,  and  sympathy,  and  tenderness,  of 
still  waiting  at  the  shrine,  of  communion  with  Him  who 
dwells  between  the  Cherubim.  And  whilst  our  work 
demands  all  the  courage  and  tension  of  every  power 
which  the  one  image  presents,  it  is  to  be  sedulously 
guarded  from  any  tinge  of  wrath  or  heat  of  passion,  such 
as  mingles  with  conflict,  and  is  to  be  prosecuted  with  all 
the  pity  and  patience,  the  brotherly  meekness  of  a  true 
priest.  "  The  wrath  of  men  worketh  not  the  righteous- 
ness of  God."  If  we  forget  the  one  character  in  the 
other  we  shall  bring  weakness  into  our  warfare,  and 
pollution  into  our  sacrifice.  "  The  servant  of  the  Lord 
must  not  strive."  We  must  not  be  animated  by  mere 
pugnacious  desire  to  advance  our  principles,  nor  let  the 
heat  of  human  eagerness  give  a  false  fervour  to  our  words 
and  work.  We  cannot  scold  nor  dragoon  men  to  love 
Jesus  Christ  We  cannot  drive  them  into  the  fold  with 
dogs  and  sticks.  We  are  to  be  gentle,  long-sufifering,  not 
doing  our  work  with  passion  and  self-will,  but  remember- 
ing that  gentleness  is  mightiest,  and  that  we  shall  best 
adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  our  Savour  when  we  go  among 
men  with  the  light  caught  in  the  inner  sanctuary  still  uradi- 
dting  our  faces,  and  our  hands  full  of  blessings  to  bestow 
on  our  brethren.  We  are  to  be  soldier-priests,  strong  and 
gentle,  like  the  ideal  of  those  knights  of  old  who  were  both, 
and  bore  the  cross  on  shield  and  helmet  and  sword-hilt 

3 


354  SOLDIER  PRIESTS,  [SERM. 

He,  our  Lord,  is  our  pattern  for  both ;  and  from  Him 
we  derive  the  strength  for  each.  He  is  the  Captain  of 
our  Salvation,  and  we  fight  beneath  His  banner,  and  by 
His  strength.  He  is  a  merciful  and  faithful  High  Priest, 
and  He  consecrates  His  brethren  to  the  service  of  the 
sanctuary.  To  Him  look  for  your  example  of  heroism, 
of  fortitude,  of  self-forgetfulness.  To  Him  look  for  your 
example  of  gentle  patience  and  dewy  pity.  Learn  in 
Christ  how  possible  it  is  to  be  strong  and  mild,  to  blend 
in  fullest  harmony  the  perfection  of  all  that  is  noble, 
lofty,  generous  in  the  soldier's  ardour  of  heroic  devotion ; 
and  of  all  that  is  calm,  still,  compassionate,  tender  in  the 
priest's  waiting  before  God  and  mediation  among  men. 
And,  remember,  that  by  faith  only  do  we  gain  the  power 
of  copying  that  blessed  example,  to  be  like  which  is  to 
be  perfect — not  to  be  like  which  is  to  fail  wholly,  and  to 
prove  that  we  have  no  part  in  His  sacrifice,  nor  any  share 
in  His  victory. 

III.  The  final  point  in  this  description  must  now 
engage  us  for  a  few  moments.  The  SoldUr-PrUsts  are  as 
dew  upon  the  earth. 

"  From  the  womb  of  the  morning  thou  hast  the  dew  of 
thy  youth."  These  words  are  often  misunderstood,  and 
taken  to  be  a  description  of  the  fresh,  youthful  energy 
attributed  by  the  Psalm  to  the  Priest-King  of  this  nation 
of  soldier-priests.  The  misunderstanding,  I  suppose,  has 
led  to  the  common  phrase,  "  The  dew  of  one's  youth." 
But  the  reference  of  the  expression  is  to  the  army,  not  to 
its  leader.  "  Youth  **  here  is  a  collective  noun,  equivalent 
to  "young  men."    The  host  of  His  soldier-subjects  is 


xxil]  soldier  priests,  355 

described  as  a  band  of  young  warriors,  whom  He  leads, 
in  their  fresh  strength  and  countless  numbers  and  gleaming 
beauty,  like  the  dew  of  the  morning. 

There  are  two  points  in  this  last  clause  which  mny 
occupy  us  for  a  few  moments — that  picture  of  the  army 
as  a  band  of  youthful  warriors ;  and  that  lovely  emblem 
of  the  dew  as  applied  to  Christ's  servants. 

As  to  the  former — there  are  many  other  words  of 
Scripture  which  carry  the  same  thought,  that  he  who  has 
fellowship  with  God,  and  lives  in  the  constant  reception 
of  the  supernatural  life  and  grace  which  come  from  Jesus 
Christ,  possesses  the  secret  of  perpetual  youth.  The 
world  ages  us,  time  and  physical  changes  tell  on  us  all, 
and  the  strength  which  belongs  to  the  life  of  nature  ebbs 
away — ^but  the  life  eternal  is  subject  to  no  laws  of  decay, 
and  owes  nothing  to  the  external  world.  So  we  may  be 
ever  young  in  heart  and  spirit  It  is  possible  for  a  man 
to  carry  the  freshness,  the  buoyancy,  the  elastic  cheerful- 
ness, the  joyful  hope  of  his  earliest  days,  right  on  through 
the  monotony  of  middle  aged  maturity,  and  even  into  old 
age  shadowed  by  the  lovely  reflection  of  the  tombs  which 
the  setting  sun  casts  over  the  path.  It  is  possible  for  us 
to  get  younger  as  we  get  older,  because  we  drink  more  full 
draughts  of  the  fountain  of  life :  and  so  to  have  to  say  at 
the  last,  "Thou  hast  kept  the  good  wine  until  now." 
"  Even  the  youths  shall  faint  and  be  weary,  and  the  young 
men  shall  utterly  fall.  But  they  that  wait  upon  the  Lord 
shall  renew  their  strength."  If  we  live  near  Christ,  and 
draw  our  life  from  Him,  then  we  may  blend  the  hopes  of 
youth  with  the  experience  and  memory  of  age ;  be  at  once 


35^  SOLDIER  PRIESTS.  [SERM. 

calm  and  joyous,  wise  and  strong,  preserving  the  blessed- 
ness of  each  stage  of  life  into  that  which  follows,  and  thus 
at  last  possessing  the  sweetness  and  the  good  of  all  at  once. 
We  may  not  only  bear  fruit  in  old  age,  but  have  blossoms, 
fruit,  and  flowers — the  varying  product  and  adornment  ot 
every  stage  of  life  united  in  our  characters. 

Then,  with  regard  to  the  other  point  in  this  final  clause 
— that  emblem  of  the  dew  leads  to  many  considerations 
which  I  can  but  inadequately  touch  upon. 

It  comes  into  view  here,  I  suppose,  mainly  for  the  sake 
of  its  effect  upon  the  earth.  It  is  as  a  s)Tnbol  of  the 
refreshing  which  a  weary  world  will  receive  fi-om  the  con- 
quests and  presence  of  the  King  and  His  host,  that  they 
are  likened  to  the  glittering  morning  dew.  Another  pro- 
phetic Scripture  gives  us  the  same  emblem  when  it  speaks 
of  Israel  being  "  in  the  midst  of  many  people  as  a  dew  from 
the  Lord."  Such  ought  to  be  the  effect  of  our  presence. 
We  are  meant  to  gladden,  to  adorn,  to  refresh  this 
parched,  prosaic  world,  with  a  freshness  brought  firom  the 
chambers  of  the  sunrise. 

It  is  worth  while  to  notice  how  we  may  discern  a 
sequence  of  thought  in  these  successive  features  of  the 
description  in  our  text.  It  began  with  that  inmost  spirit 
and  motive  of  the  Christian  life,  the  submission  of  will 
and  consecration  of  self  to  Christ.  It  advanced  to  the 
function  and  character  of  His  servants  in  the  world.  And 
now  it  deals  finally  with  the  influence  which  they  are  to 
exert  by  this  their  soldier-like  obedience  and  priestly 
ministration. 

There  is  progress  of  thought,  too,  in  another  way.    We 


KXII.]  SOLDIER  rRlESTS.  357 

began  with  a  sjTiibol  that  had  in  it  something  almost 
harsh  and  stem.  We  advanced  to  one  in  which  there 
was  a  predominance  of  gentle  and  gracious  thoughts  and 
images.  And  now  all  that  was  severe,  and  all  that  re- 
minded either  of  opposition  or  of  effort,  has  melted  away 
into  this  sweet  emblem.  Instead  of  the  "  confused  noise  " 
of  the  battle  of  the  warrior,  we  have  the  silence  of  the 
dawn,  and  the  noiseless  falling  of  thfe  dew  amid  the 
solitudes  of  the  wildernesses,  or  the  recesses  of  the  moun- 
tains. So  the  highest  thought  of  our  Christian  influence^ 
is  that  it  comes  with  silent  footfall  and  refreshes  men's 
souls — like  His,  who  shall  come  down  as  rain  upon  the 
mown  grass,  who  will  not  strive  nor  cry — but  in  gentle 
omnipotence  and  meek  persistence  of  love,  will  not  fail 
nor  be  discouraged  till  He  have  set  judgment  in  the 
earth. 

Remember  other  symbols  by  which  the  same  general 
thought  of  Christian  influence  upon  the  world  is  set  forth 
with  very  remarkable  variatioa  "  Ye  are  the  light  of  the 
world."— "Ye  are  the  salt  of  the  earth."  The  light 
guides  and  gladdens  \  the  salt  preserves  and  purifies ;  the 
dew  freshens  and  fertilizes.  The  light,  conspicuous ;  the 
salt,  working  concealed  \  and  the  dew,  visible  like  the 
former,  but  yet  unobtrusive  and  operating  silently  like  the 
latter.  Some  of  us  had  rather  be  light  than  salt ;  prefer 
to  be  conspicuous  rather  than  to  diffuse  a  wholesome 
silent  influence  around  us.  But  these  three  types  must  all 
be  blended  both  in  regard  to  the  manner  of  working  and 
in  regard  to  the  effects  produced.  We  shall  refresh  and 
beautify  the  world  only  in  pro£)ortion  as  we  save  it  from 


35^  SOLDIER  PRIESTS.  [SERM. 

its  rottenness  and  corruption,  and  we  shall  do  either  only 
in  proportion  as  we  bear  abroad  the  name  of  Christ,  in 
whom  is  "  life ;  and  the  life  is  the  light  of  men." 

Nor  need  we  omit  allusions  to  other  associations  con- 
nected with  this  figure.  The  dew,  formed  in  the  silence 
of  the  darkness  while  men  sleep,  falling  as  willingly  on  a  bit 
of  dead  wood  as  anywhere,  hanging  its  pearls  on  every 
poor  spike  of  grass,  and  dressing  everything  on  which  it 
lies  with  strange  beauty,  each  separate  globule  tiny  and 
evanescent,  but  each  flashing  back  the  light,  and  each  a 
perfect  sphere,  feeble  one  by  one,  but  united  mighty  to 
make  the  pastures  of  the  wilderness  rejoice — so,  created 
in  silence  by  an  unseen  influence,  feeble  vvliCn  taken  in 
detail  but  strong  in  their  myriads,  glad  to  occupy  the 
lowliest  place,  and  each  "bright  with  something  of 
celestial  light,"  Christian  men  and  women  are  to  be  in 
the  midst  of  many  people  as  a  dew  from  the  Lord. 

Brethren,  that  characteristic,  like  all  else  which  is  good, 
belongs  to  us  in  proportion  as  we  keep  near  to  Christ 
Jesus,  and  are  filled  with  His  fulness.  All  these  emblems 
which  have  been  occupying  us  now,  originally  belonged 
to  Him,  and  we  receive  from  Him  the  grace  that  makes 
us  as  He  is  in  the  world.  He  Himself  is  the  Warrior 
King,  the  Captain  of  the  Lord's  host,  the  true  Joshua, 
whose  last  word  ere  His  cross  was  a  shout  of  victory,  "  I 
have  overcome  the  world" — whose  promises  from  the 
throne  seven  times  crown  the  conqueror  who  overcomes 
as  He  overcame.  He  makes  us  His  soldiers  and  strength- 
ens us  for  the  war,  if  we  live  by  faith  in  Him.  He  Him- 
self is  the  Priest — the  only  eternal  Priest  of  the  world — 


XXII.]  SOLDIER  PRIESTS.  359 

who  wears  on  His  head  the  mitre  and  the  diadem,  and 
bears  in  His  hand  the  sceptre  and  the  censer ;  and  He 
makes  us  priests,  if  faith  in  His  only  sacrifice  and  all 
prevalent  intercession  be  in  our  souls.  He  is  the  dew 
unto  Israel — and  only  by  intercourse  with  Him  shall  we 
be  made  gentle  and  refreshing,  silent  blessings  to  all  the 
weary  and  the  parched  souls  in  the  wilderness  of  the 
world. 

Everything  worth  being  or  doing  comes  from  Jesus 
Christ.  Heroic  courage  !  Then  hold  His  hand,  and  He 
will  strengthen  your  heart.  Glad  surrender  !  Then  think 
of  His  sacrifice  for  us  until  ours  to  Him  be  our  answering 
gift.  Priestly  power !  Then  let  Him  bring  us  nigh  by 
His  blood  that  we  too  may  be  able  to  have  compassion 
on  the  ignorant  and  to  draw  them  to  God.  Dewy  purit\ 
and  freshness  !  Then  open  your  hearts  for  the  receptior 
of  His  grace,  for  all  the  invigoration  that  we  can  imparl 
to  the  Avorld  is  but  the  communication  of  that  refreshing 
wherewith  we  ourselves  are  refreshed  of  Christ.  In  ever) 
aspect  of  our  relations  to  the  world,  we  draw  all  our  fit- 
ness for  all  our  offices  from  that  Lord,  who  is  and  gives 
ever>'thing  that  we  can  be  or  do.  Then  let  us  seek  by 
humble  faith  and  habitual  contact  with  Him  and  His  truth, 
to  have  our  emptiness  filled  by  His  fulness,  and  our  unfit- 
ness made  ready  for  all  service  by  His  all  sufficiency. 

And  let  me  close  by  reiterating  what  1  have  said  already. 
There  is  a  twofold  manner  of  subjection — the  spurious 
and  the  real.  The  involuntary  is  nought.  The  glad  and 
cheerful  surrender  alone  is  counted  submission.  This 
Psalm  shows  us  Christ  surrounded  by  His  friends  who  are 


36o  SOLDIER  PRIESTS. 


glad  to  obey.  But  it  also  shows  us  Christ  ruling  in  the 
midst  of  His  enemies.  They  cannot  help  obeying ;  His 
dominion  is  established  over  them.  But  they  do  not  wish 
to  have  Him  to  reign  over  them,  and  therefore  they  are 
enemies — even  though  they  be  subjects.  Which  is  it  with 
you,  my  brother  ?  Do  you  serve  because  you  love — ^and 
love  because  He  died  for  you  ?  or  do  you  serve  because 
you  must  ?  Then,  remember,  constrained  service  is  no 
service;  and  subjects  without  loyalty  are  rebel  traitors. 
Our  Psalm  shows  us  Christ  gathering  His  army  in  array. 
He  is  calling  each  of  us  to  a  place  there,  in  this  day  of 
His  power,  and  day  of  His  grace.  Take  heed  lest  the 
day  of  His  power  should  for  you  darken  into  that  other 
day  of  which  this  Psalm  speaks — the  day  of  His  wrath, 
when  He  strikes  through  kings,  and  bruises  the  head  over 
many  countries.  Put  your  trust  in  that  Saviour,  my  friend, 
cleave  to  that  sacrifice,  then  you  will  not  be  amongst  those 
whom  He  treads  down  in  His  march  to  victory,  but  one 
of  that  happy  band  of  priestly  warriors  who  follow  Him 
as  He  goes  forth  conquering  and  to  conquer. 


36i 


SERMON  XXIII. 

WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION. 


Acts  i,  21,  2a. 

Wherefore  of  these  men  which  have  companied  with  ns  all  the 
time  that  the  Lord  Jesus  went  in  and  out  among  us  ...  .  must 
one  be  ordained  to  be  a  witness  with  us  of  his  resurrection. 

T^HE  fact  of  Christ's  resurrection  was  the  staple  of  the 
■^  first  Christian  sermon  recorded  in  this  Book  of  the 
Acts  of  the  Apostles. 

They  did  not  deal  so  much  in  doctrine ;  they  did  not 
dwell  very  distinctly  upon  what  we  call,  and  rightly  call, 
the  atoning  death  of  Christ ;  but  they  proclaimed  what 
they  had  seen  with  their  eyes — that  he  died  and  rose 
again. 

And  the  resurrection  was  not  only  the  main  subject  of 
their  teaching,  but  it  was  the  resurrection  in  one  of  its 
aspects  and  for  one  specific  purpose.  There  are,  speak- 
ing roughly,  three  main  connections  in  which  the  fact  of 
Christ's  rising  from  the  dead  is  viewed  in  Scripture ;  and 
these  three  emerge  upon  the  consciousness  of  the  early 
church  successively. 

It  was,  first,  a  fact  affecting  Him,  a  testimony  concern- 


362        WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION,      [SERM. 

ing  Him,  carrying  with  it  necessarily  some  great  truths 
with  regard  to  Him,  His  character,  His  nature,  and  His 
work.  And  it  was  in  that  aspect  mainly  that  the  earliest 
preachers  dealt  with  it.  Then,  as  reflection  and  the  guid- 
ance of  God's  good  Spirit  led  them  to  understand  more 
and  more  of  the  treasure  which  lay  in  the  fact,  it  came  to 
be  to  them,  next,  a  pattern,  and  a  pledge,  and  a  prophecy 
of  their  own  resurrection.  The  doctrine  of  man's  immor- 
tality and  the  future  life  was  evolved  from  it,  and  was  felt 
to  be  implied  in  it.  And  then  it  came  to  be,  thirdly  and 
lastly,  a  symbol  or  figure  of  the  spiritual  resurrection  and 
newness  of  life  into  which  all  they  were  born  who  partici- 
pated in  His  death.  They  knew  Him  first  by  His  resur- 
rection ;  they  then  knew  the  power  of  His  resurrection  as 
a  witness  for  their  own ;  and  they  knew  it  as  being  the 
pattern  to  which  they  were  to  be  conformed  even  whilst 
here  on  earth  ! 

The  words  which  I  have  read  for  my  text  are  the  Apos- 
tle Peter's  own  description  of  what  was  the  office  of  an 
apostle — "to  be  a  witness  -with  us  of  Christ's  resurrec- 
tion." And  the  statement  branches  out,  I  think,  into 
three  considerations,  to  which  I  ask  your  attention  for 
a  few  moments  this  morning.  First,  we  have  here  the 
witnesses ;  secondly,  we  have  the  sufficiency  of  their 
testimony;  and,  thirdly,  we  have  the  importance  of  the 
fact  to  which  they  bear  their  witness.  We  are  testimony- 
bearers.  Our  witness  is  enough  to  establish  the  fact. 
The  fact  to  which  we  witness  is  all  important  for  the 
religion  and  the  hopes  of  the  world. 

T.  First,  then,  the  Witnesses. 


xxiil]    witnesses  of  the  resurrection.     363 

Here  we  have  the  "head  of  the  Apostolic  College,"  the 
"  primate"  of  the  twelve,  on  whose  supposed  primacy — 
which  is  certainly  not  a  "rock" — such  tremendous  claims 
have  been  built,  laying  down  the  qualifications  and  the 
functions  of  an  apostle.  How  simply  they  present  them- 
selves to  his  mind.  The  qualifications  are  only  personal 
knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ  in  His  earthly  history,  because 
the  function  is  only  to  attest  His  resurrection.  Their 
work  was  to  bear  witness  to  what  they  had  seen  with 
their  eyes ;  and  what  was  needed,  therefore,  was  nothing 
more  than  such  familiarity  with  Christ  as  should  make 
them  comiDetent  witnesses  to  the  fact  that  He  died,  and 
to  the  fact  that  the  same  Jesus  who  had  died,  and  whom 
they  knew  so  well,  rose  again  and  went  up  to  heaven. 

The  same  conception  of  an  Apostle's  work  lies  in 
Christ's  last  solemn  designation  of  them  for  their  office, 
where  their  whole  commission  is  included  in  the  simple 
words,  "Ye  shall  be  witnesses  unto  me."  It  appears 
again  and  again  in  the  earlier  address  reported  in  this 
book.  "  This  Jesus  hath  God  raised  up,  whereof  we  all 
are  witnesses."  "\\Tiom  God  hath  raised  from  the  dead, 
whereof  we  are  witnesses."  "  With  great  power  gave  the 
Apostles  witness  of  the  resurrection."  "We  are  His 
witnesses  of  these  things."  To  Cornelius,  Peter  speaks  of 
the  Apostles  as  "  witnesses  chosen  before  of  God,  who  did 
eat  and  drink  with  him  after  he  rose  from  the  dead " — 
and  whose  charge,  received  from  Christ,  was  "  to  testify 
that  it  is  he  which  was  ordained  of  God  to  be  the  Judge 
of  quick  and  dead."  Paul  at  Antioch  speaks  of  the 
twelve,  from   whom   he   distinguishes   himself,  as   being 


364       WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION,      [sERMs 

"  Christ's  witnesses  to  the  people^* — and  seems  to  regard 
them  as  specially  commissioned  to  the  Jewish  nation, 
while  he  was  sent  to  "  declare  unto  you  " — Gentiles — the 
same  "  glad  tidings,"  in  that  "  God  had  raised  up  Jesus 
again."  So  we  might  go  on  accumulating  passages,  but 
these  will  suffice. 

I  need  not  spend  time  in  elaborating  or  emphasizing 
the  contrast  which  the  idea  of  the  apostolic  office  con- 
tained in  these  simple  words  presents  to  the  portentous 
theories  of  later  times.  I  need  only  remind  you  that, 
according  to  the  Gospels,  the  work  of  the  apostles  in 
Christ's  life-time  embraced  three  elements,  none  of  which 
were  peculiar  to  them — to  be  with  Christ,  to  preach,  and 
to  work  miracles;  that  their  characteristic  work  after 
His  ascension  was  this  of  witness  bearing ;  that  the  church 
did  not  owe  to  them  as  a  body  its  extension,  nor  Christian 
doctrine  its  form ,  that  whilst  Peter  and  James  and  John 
appear  in  the  history,  and  Matthew  wrote  a  Gospel,  and 
the  other  James  and  Jude  are  probably  the  authors  of  the 
brief  Epistles  which  bear  their  names — the  rest  of  the 
twelve  never  appear  in  the  subsequent  history.  This  book 
is  not  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles.  It  tells  the  work  of  Peter 
alone  among  the  twelve.  The  Hellenists  Stephen  and 
Philip,  the  Cypriote  Barnabas,  and  the  man  of  Tarsus — 
greater  than  they  all — these  spread  the  name  of  Christ 
beyond  the  limits  of  the  Holy  City  and  the  chosen  people. 
The  solemn  power  of  "  binding  and  loosing "  was  not  a 
prerogative  of  the  twelve,  for  we  read  that  Jesus  came 
where  "the  disciples  were  assembled,"  and  that  "the 
disciples  were  glad  when  they  saw  the  Lord  " ;  and  "  He 


XXIII.]      WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION.       365 

breathed  on  thinly  and  said,  Receive  ye  the  Holy  Ghost : 
whose  soever  sins  ye  remit,  they  are  remitted." 

WTiere  in  all  this  is  there  a  trace  of  the  special  apos- 
tolic powers  which  have  been  alleged  to  be  transmitted 
from  them  ?  Nowhere.  Who  was  it  that  came  and  said, 
"  Brother  Saul,  the  Lord  hath  sent  me  that  thou  mightest 
be  filled  with  the  Holy  Ghost"?  A  simple  "layman." 
Who  was  it  that  stood  by,  a  passive  and  astonished 
spectator  of  the  communication  of  spiritual  gifts  to  Gentile 
converts,  and  could  only  say,  "  Forasmuch,  then,  as  God 
gave  them  the  like  gift,  as  he  did  unto  us,  what  was  I  that 
I  could  withstand  God  "  ?    Peter,  the  leader  of  the  twelve. 

Their  task  was  apparently  a  humbler,  really  a  far  more 
important  one.  Their  place  was  apparently  a  lowlier, 
really  a  loftier  one.  They  had  to  lay  broad  and  deep 
the  basis  for  all  the  growth  and  grace  of  the  church  in 
the  facts  which  they  witnessed.  Their  work  abides ;  and 
when  the  Celestial  City  is  revealed  to  our  longing  hearts, 
in  Us  foundations  will  be  read  "  the  names  of  the  twelve 
apostles  of  the  Lamb."  Their  office  was  testimony  ;  and 
their  testimony  was  to  this  effect — "  Hearken,  we  twelve 
men  knew  this  Jesus.  Some  of  us  knew  Him  when  He 
was  a  boy,  and  lived  beside  that  little  village  where  He 
was  born.  We  were  with  Him  for  three  whole  years  in 
close  contact  day  and  night.  We  all  of  us,  though  we 
were  cowards,  stood  afar  off  with  a  handful  of  women 
when  He  was  crucified.  We  saw  Him  dead.  We  saw 
His  grave.  We  saw  Him  living,  and  we  touched  Him,  and 
handled  Him,  and  He  ate  and  drank  with  us,  and  we, 
sinners  that  we  are  that  tell  it  you,  we  went  out  with  Him 


366      WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION,      [SERM. 

to  the  top  of  Olivet,  and  we  saw  Him  go  up  into  the 
skies.  Do  you  believe  us  or  do  you  not  ?  We  do  not 
come  in  the  first  place  to  preach  doctrines.  We  are  not 
thinkers  or  moralists.  We  are  plain  men,  telling  a  plain 
story,  to  the  truth  of  which  we  pledge  our  senses.  We 
do  not  want  compliments  about  our  spiritual  elevation, 
or  our  pure  morality.  We  do  not  want  reverence  as 
possessors  of  mysterious  and  exclusive  powers.  We 
want  you  to  believe  us  as  honest  men,  relating  what  we 
have  seen.  There  are  twelve  of  us,  and  there  are  five 
hundred  at  our  back,  and  we  have  all  got  the  one  simple 
story  to  tell.  It  is,  indeed,  a  Gospel,  a  philosophy,  a 
theology,  the  reconciliation  of  earth  and  heaven,  the 
revelation  of  God  to  man,  and  of  man  to  himself,  the  un- 
veiling of  the  future  world,  the  basis  of  hope ;  but  we 
bring  it  to  you  first  as  a  thing  that  happened  upon  this 
earth  of  ours,  which  we  saw  with  our  eyes,  and  of  which 
we  are  the  witnesses  I" 

To  that  work  there  can  be  no  successors.  Some  of 
them  were  inspired  to  be  the  writers  of  the  authoritative 
fountains  of  religious  truth ;  but  that  gift  did  not  belong 
to  them  all,  and  was  not  the  distinctive  possession  of  the 
twelve.  The  power  of  working  miracles,  and  of  com- 
municating supernatural  gifts  was  not  confined  to  them, 
but  is  found  exercised  by  other  believers,  as  well  as  by  a 
whole  "  presbytery."  And  as  for  what  was  properly  their 
task,  and  their  qualifications,  there  can  be  no  succession, 
for  there  is  nothing  to  succeed  to,  but  what  cannot  be 
transmitted — the  sight  of  the  risen  Saviour,  and  the  witnesf 
to  His  resurrection  as  a  fact  certified  by  their  senses. 


XXIII.]       WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION.      3^7 

II.   The  sufficiency  of  the  testimony. 

Peter  regards  (as  does  the  whole  New  Testament,  and 
as  did  Peter's  Master,  when  He  appointed  these  men) 
the  witness  which  he  and  his  fellows  bore  as  enough  to 
lay  firm  and  deep  the  historical  fact  of  the  resurrection  of 
Jesus  Christ! 

The  first  point  that  I  would  suggest  here  is  this  :  if  we 
think  of  Christianity  as  being  mainly  a  set  of  truths — 
spiritual,  moral,  intellectual— then,  of  course,  the  way  to 
prove  Christianity  is  to  show  the  consistency  of  that  body 
of  truths  with  one  another,  their  consistency  with  other 
truths,  their  derivation  from  admitted  principles,  their 
reasonableness,  their  adaptation  to  men's  nature,  and  the 
refining  and  elevating  effects  of  their  adoption,  and  so 
on.  If  we  think  of  Christianity,  on  the  other  hand,  as 
being  first  a  set  of  historical  facts  which  carry  the 
doctrines,  then  the  way  to  prove  Christianity  is  not  to 
show  how  reasonable  it  is,  not  to  show  how  it  has  been 
anticipated  and  expected  and  desired,  not  to  show  how 
it  corresponds  with  men's  needs  and  men's  longings,  not 
to  show  what  large  and  blessed  results  follow  from  its 
acceptance.  All  these  are  legitimate  ways  of  establish- 
ing principles;  but  the  way  to  establish  a  fact  is  only 
one — that  is,  to  find  somebody  that  can  say,  "  I  know  it, 
for  I  saw  it" 

And  my  belief  is  that  the  course  of  modem  "  apolo- 
getics," as  they  are  called — methods  of  defending 
Christianity — has  followed  too  slavishly  the  devious  course 
of  modern  antagonism,  and  has  departed  from  its  real 
stronghold  when  it  has  consented  to  argue  the  question 


368      WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION,      [SERM. 

on  these  (as  I  take  them  to  be)  lower  and  less  sufficing 
grounds.  I  am  thankful  to  adopt  all  that  wise  Christian 
apologists  may  have  said  in  regard  to  the  reasonableness 
of  Christianity ;  its  correspondence  with  men's  wants,  and 
the  blessings  that  follow  from  it,  and  so  forth ;  but  the 
Gospel  is  first  and  foremost  a  history,  and  you  cannot 
prove  that  a  thing  has  happened  by  showing  how  very 
desirable  it  is  that  it  should  happen,  how  reasonable  it  is 
to  expect  that  it  should  happen,  what  good  results  would 
follow  fi*om  believing  that  it  has  happened — all  that  is 
irrelevant.  Think  of  it  as  first  a  history,  and  then  you 
are  shut  up  to  the  old-fashioned  line  of  evidence,  irre- 
firagable  as  I  take  it  to  be,  to  which  all  these  others  may 
afterwards  be  appended  as  confirmatory.  It  is  true, 
because  sufficient  eye-witnesses  assert  it.  It  did  happen, 
because  it  is  commended  to  us  by  the  ordinary  canons  of 
evidence  which  we  accept  in  regard  to  all  other  matters 
of  fact! 

With  regard  to  the  sufficiency  of  the  specific  evidence 
here,  I  wish  to  make  only  one  or  two  observations. 

Suppose  you  yield  up  everything  that  the  most  craving 
and  unreasonable  modem  scepticism  can  demand  about 
the  date  and  authorship  of  these  tracts  that  make  the  New 
Testament,  we  have  still  left  four  letters  of  the  Apostle 
Paul,  which  nobody  has  ever  denied,  which  the  very  ex- 
tremest  professors  of  the  "  higher  criticism "  themselves 
accept.  These  four  are  the  Epistles  to  the  Romans,  the 
first  and  second  to  the  Corinthians,  and  that  to  the 
Galatians.  The  dates  which  are  assigned  to  these  four 
letters  by  anybody,  believer  or  unbeliever,  bring  them 


Jvxill.]      WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION,       369 

within  five  and  twenty  years  of  the  alleged  date  of 
Christ's  resurrection. 

Then,  what  do  we  find  in  these  undeniably  and 
admittedly  genuine  letters  a  quarter  of  a  century  after  the 
supposed  fact  ?  We  find  in  all  of  them  reference  to  it — 
the  distinct  allegation  of  it.  We  find  in  one  of  them 
that  the  apostle  states  it  as  being  the  substance  of  his 
preaching  and  of  his  brethren's  preaching,  that  "  Christ 
died  and  rose  again  according  to  the  Scriptures,"  and 
that  He  was  seen  by  individuals,  by  multitudes,  by  a 
vvliole  five  hundred,  the  greater  portion  of  whom  were 
living  and  available  as  witnesses  wiien  he  wrote. 

And  we  find  that  side  by  side  with  this  statement, 
there  is  the  reference  to  his  own  vision  of  the  risen 
Saviour,  which  carries  us  up  within  ten  years  of  the 
alleged  fact  So,  then,  by  the  evidence  of  admittedly 
genume  documents,  which  are  dealing  with  the  state  of 
things  ten  years  after  the  supposed  resurrection,  there 
was  a  unanimous  concurrence  of  belief,  on  the  part 
of  the  whole  primitive  church,  so  that  even  the  heretics 
who  said  that  tliere  was  no  resurrection  of  the  dead  could 
be  argued  with  on  the  ground  of  their  belief  in  Christ's 
resurrection.  The  whole  church  with  one  voice  asserted 
it  And  there  were  hundreds  of  living  men  ready  to 
attest  it.  It  was  not  a  handfiil  of  women  who  fancied 
they  had  seen  Him  once,  very  early  in  dim  twilight  of  a 
spring  morning — but  it  was  half  a  thousand  that  had  be- 
held Him.  He  had  been  seen  by  them  not  once,  but 
often;  not  far  off,  but  close  at  hand;  not  in  one  place,  but 
in  Galilee  and  Jerusalem ;  not  under  one  set  of  < 

3  "A 


370       WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION.      [SERM. 

Stances,  but  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  abroad  and  in  the 
house,  walking  and  sitting,  speaking  and  eating,  by  them 
singly  and  in  numbers.  Pie  had  not  been  seen  only  by 
excited  expectants  of  His  appearance,  but  by  incredulous 
eyes  and  surprised  hearts,  who  doubted  ere  they  worshijj- 
ped,  and  paused  before  they  said,  "My  Lord  and  my 
God."  They  neither  hoped  that  he  would  rise,  nor 
believed  that  He  had  risen  ;  and  the  world  may  be  thank- 
ful that  they  were  slow  of  heart  to  believe. 

Would  not  the  testimony  which  can  be  alleged  for 
Christ's  resurrection  be  enough  to  guarantee  any  event 
but  this  ?  And  if  so,  why  is  not  it  enough  to  guarantee 
this,  too  ?  If,  as  nobody  denies,  the  early  church,  within 
ten  years  of  Christ's  resurrection,  believed  in  His  resur- 
rection, and  were  ready  to  go,  and  did,  many  of  them, 
go  to  the  death  in  assertion  of  their  veracity  in  declaring 
it,  then  one  of  two  things — Either  they  were  right  or 
they  were  wrong;  and  if  the  latter,  one  of  two  things 
— If  the  resurrection  be  not  a  fact,  then  that  belief  was 
either  a  delusion  or  a  deceit 

Not  a  delusion,  for  such  an  illusion  is  altogether  unex- 
ampled ;  and  it  is  absurd  to  think  of  it  as  being  shared  by 
a  multitude  like  the  early  church.  Nations  have  said, 
"  Our  king  is  not  dead — he  is  gone  away  and  he  will  come 
back."  Loving  disciples  have  said,  "  Our  teacher  lives 
in  solitude,  and  will  return  to  us."  But  this  is  no  parallel 
to  these.  This  is  not  a  fond  imagination  giving  an 
apparent  substance  to  its  own  creation,  but  sense  recog 
nizing  first  the  fact,  "  He  is  dead,"  and  then,  in  opposition 
to  expectation,  and  when  hope  had  sickened  to  despah, 


XXIII.]      WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION.       371 

recognizing  the  astounding  fact,  "He  liveth  that  was 
dead."  And  to  suppose  tliat  that  should  have  been  the 
rooted  conviction  of  hundreds  of  men  that  were  not 
idiots  finds  no  parallel  in  the  history  of  human  illusions, 
and  no  analogy  in  such  legends  as  those  to  which 
I  have  referred. 

Not  a  myth ;  for  a  myth  does  not  grow  in  ten  years. 
And  there  was  no  motive  to  frame  if  Christ  was  dead  and 
all  was  over.  Not  a  deceit.  For  the  character  of  the 
men,  and  the  character  of  the  associated  morality,  and 
the  obvious  absence  of  all  self-interest,  and  the  persecu- 
tions and  sorrows  which  they  endured,  make  it  incon 
ceivable  that  the  fairest  building  that  ever  hath  been 
reared  in  the  world,  and  which  is  cemented  by  men's 
blood,  should  be  built  upon  the  mud  and  slime  of  a 
conscious  deceit ! 

And  all  this  we  are  asked  to  put  aside  at  the  bidding 
of  a  glaring  begging  of  the  whole  question,  and  an 
outrageous  assertion  which  no  man  that  believes  in  a  God 
at  all  can  logically  maintain,  viz.,  that  no  testimony  can 
reach  to  the  miraculous,  or  that  miracles  are  impossible. 

No  testimony  reach  to  the  miraculous  !  Well,  put  it 
into  a  concrete  form.  Can  testimony  not  reach  to  this  : 
I  know,  because  I  saw,  that  a  man  was  dead ;  I  know, 
because  I  saw,  a  dead  man  live  again  ?  If  testimony  can 
do  that,  I  think  we  may  safely  leave  the  verbal  sophism 
that  it  cannot  reach  to  the  miraculous  to  take  care  of  itseli. 

And,  then,  with  regard  to  the  other  —  miracle  is 
impossible.  That  is  an  illogical  begging  of  the  whole 
question  in   dispute  —  it  cannot  avail   to  brush    aside 


372       WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION,      [SERM 

testimony.  You  cannot  smother  facts  by  theories  in  that 
fashion.  Again,  one  would  like  to  know  how  it  comes 
that  our  modem  men  of  science,  who  protest  so  much 
against  science  being  corrupted  by  metaphysics,  should 
commit  themselves  to  an  assertion  like  that?  Surely 
that  is  stark,  staring  metaphysics.  It  seems  as  if  they 
thought  that  the  '*  metaphysics "  which  said  that  there 
was  anything  behind  the  physical  universe  was  un- 
scientific; but  that  the  metaphysics  which  said  that 
there  was  nothing  behind  physics  was  quite  legitimate, 
and  ought  to  be  allowed  to  pass  muster.  \\Tiat  have  the 
votaries  of  pure  physical  science,  who  hold  the  barren 
word-contests  of  theolog}'  and  the  proud  pretensions  of 
philosophy  in  such  contempt,  to  do  out-Heroding  Herod 
in  that  fashion,  and  venturing  on  metaphysical  assertions 
of  such  a  sort  ?  Let  them  keep  to  their  own  line,  and  tell 
us  all  that  crucibles  and  scalpels  can  reveal,  and  we  will 
listen  as  becomes  us.  But  when  they  contradict  their 
own  principles  in  order  to  deny  the  possibility  of  miracle, 
we  need  only  give  them  back  their  own  words,  and  ask 
that  the  investigation  of  facts  shall  not  be  hampered  and 
clogged  with  metaphysical  prejudices.  No  !  no  !  Christ 
made  no  mistake  when  He  built  His  Church  upon  that 
rock — the  historical  evidence  of  a  resurrection  from 
the  dead,  though  all  the  wise  men  of  Areopagus'  hill 
may  make  its  cliffs  ring  with  mocking  laughter  when  we 
say,  upon  Easter  morning,  "The  Lord  is  risen  indeed!" 

III.  There  is  a  final  consideration  connected  with 
these  words,  which  I  must  deal  with  very  briefly — tfu 
importana  of  the  fact  which  is  thus  borne  witness  ta 


XXIII.]      WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION,       373 

I  have  already  pointed  out  that  the  resurrection  of 
Christ  is  viewed  in  Scripture  in  three  aspects,  in  its  bearing 
upon  His  natuT  e  and  work,  as  a  pattern  for  our  future,  and 
as  a  symbol  of  our  present  newness  of  life.  The  import- 
ance to  which  I  refer  now  applies  only  to  that  first  aspect. 

With  the  resurrection  of  Jesus  Christ  stands  or  falls  the 
Divinity  of  Christ  As  Paul  said,  in  that  letter  to  which 
I  have  referred,  "  Declared  to  be  the  Son  of  God,  with 
power  by  the  resurrection  from  the  dead."  As  Peter  said 
in  the  sermon  that  follows  this  in  our  text,  "  God  hath 
made  this  same  Jesus,  whom  ye  have  crucified,  both  Lord 
and  Christ."  As  Paul  said,  on  Mars*  HiU,  "He  will 
judge  the  world  in  righteousness  by  that  man  whom  he 
hath  ordained,  whereof  he  hath  given  assurance  unto  all 
men,  in  that  he  hath  raised  him  from  the  dead." 

The  case  is  this.  Christ  lived  as  we  know,  and  in  the 
course  of  that  life  claimed  to  be  the  Son  of  God.  He 
made  such  broad  and  strange  assertions  as  these — "  I  and 
my  Father  are  one."  "  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and 
the  life."  "I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life."  "He 
that  believeth  on  me  shall  never  die."  "The  Son  of 
man  must  suffer  many  things — and  the  third  day  he 
shall  rise  again."  Thus  speaking  He  dies,  and  rises  again 
and  passes  into  the  heavens.  That  is  the  last  mightiest 
utterance  of  the  same  testimony,  which  spake  from 
heaven  on  His  baptism,  "This  is  my  beloved  Son,  in 
whom  I  am  well  pleased."  If  He  be  risen  from  the  dead, 
then  His  loftiest  claims  are  confirmed  from  the  throne, 
and  we  can  see  in  Him — the  Son  of  God.  But  if  death 
holds  Him  sdll^  and  the  Syrian  stars  look  down  upon  Hit 


374       WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION.      [SERM. 

grave  as  a  modem  poet  tells  us  in  his  dainty  English 
they  do,  then  what  becomes  of  these  words  of  His,  and  of 
our  estimate  of  the  character  of  Him,  the  speaker  ?  Let 
us  hear  no  more  about  the  pure  morality  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  the  beauty  of  His  calm  and  lofty  teaching,  and  the 
rest  of  it.  Take  away  the  resurrection  from  the  dead, 
and  we  have  left  beautiful  precepts,  and  fair  wisdom 
deformed  with  a  monstrous  self-assertion,  and  the  con- 
stant reiteration  of  claims  which  the  event  proves  to  have 
been  baseless.  Either  He  has  risen  from  the  dead  or  His 
words  were  blasphemy.  Men  now-a-days  talk  very 
lightly  of  throwing  aside  the  supernatural  portions  of  the 
Gospel  history,  and  retaining  reverence  for  the  great 
Teacher,  the  pure  moralist  of  Nazareth.  Tlie  Pharisees 
put  the  issue  more  coarsely  and  truly  when  they  said, 
"  That  deceiver  said,  while  He  was  yet  alive,  after  three 
days  I  will  rise  again."  Yes !  one  or  the  other. 
"Declared  to  be  the  Son  of  God  with  power  by  the 
resurrection  from  the  dead,"  or — that  which  our  lips 
refuse  to  say  even  in  a  hypothesis  ! 

Still  further,  with  the  resurrection  stands  or  falls 
Christ's  whole  work  for  our  redemption.  If  He  died,  like 
other  men — if  that  awful  bony  hand  has  got  its  grip  upon 
Him  too,  then  we  have  no  proof  that  the  cross  was  any- 
thing but  a  martyr's  cross.  His  resurrection  is  the  proof 
of  His  completed  work  of  redemption.  It  is  the  proof — 
followed  as  it  is  by  His  ascension — that  His  death  was 
not  the  tribute  which  for  Himself  He  had  to  pay,  but  the 
ransom  for  us.  His  resurrection  is  the  condition  of  His 
present  activity.     If  He  has  not  risen.  He  has  not  put 


XXIII.]      WITNESSES  OF  THE  RESURRECTION.       375 

away  sin  ;  and  if  He  has  not  put  it  away  by  the  sacrifice 
of  Himself,  none  has,  and  it  remains.  We  come  back  to 
the  old  drear)^  alternative  :  if  Christ  be  not  risen,  your  faith 
is  vain,  and  our  preaching  is  vain.  Ye  are  yet  in  your  sins, 
and  they  which  have  fallen  asleep  in  Christ  with  unfulfilled 
hopes  fixed  upon  a  baseless  vision — they  of  whom  we 
hoped,  through  our  tears,  that  they  live  with  Him — they 
are  perished. 

For,  if  He  be  not  risen,  there  is  no  resurrection ;  and, 
if  He  be  not  risen,  tliere  is  no  forgiveness ;  and,  if  He  be 
not  risen,  there  is  no  Son  of  God;  and  the  world  is 
desolate,  and  the  heaven  is  empty,  and  the  grave  is  dark, 
and  sin  abides,  and  death  is  eternal.  If  Christ  be  dead, 
then  that  awful  vision  is  true,  "  As  I  looked  up  into  the 
immeasurable  heavens  for  the  Divine  Eye,  it  froze  me 
with  an  empty  bottomless  eye-socket" 

There  is  nothing  between  us  and  darkness,  despair, 
death,  but  that  ancient  message,  "  I  declare  unto  you  the 
gospel  which  I  preach,  by  which  ye  are  saved  if  ye  keep 
in  memory  what  I  preached  unto  you,  how  that  Christ 
died  for  our  sins  according  to  the  Scriptures,  and  that 
he  was  raised  the  third  day  according  to  the  Scriptures." 

Well,  then,  may  we  take  up  the  ancient  glad  salutation, 
"  The  Lord  is  risen ; "  and,  turning  from  these  thoughts 
of  the  disaster  and  despair  that  that  awful  supposition 
drags  after  it,  fall  back  upon  the  sober  certainty,  and 
with  the  aposde  break  forth  in  triumph,  "  Now  is  Christ 
risen  from  the  dead,  and  become  the  firstfruits  of  them 
that  slept" 


376 


SERMON  XXIV 

NEAREST  TO  CHRIST. 


Matthew  xx,  9$. 

To  sit  on  my  right  hand,  and  on  my  left,  is  not  mine  to  girc,  but 
it  shall  be  gwen  to  them  for  whom  it  b  prepared  of  my  Father. 


Y- 


'OU  will  observe  that  an  unusually  long  supplement 
is  inserted  by  our  translators  in  this  verse.  That 
supplement  is  quite  unnecessary,  and,  as  is  sometimes  the 
case,  is  even  worse  than  unnecessary.  It  positively  ob- 
scures the  true  meaning  of  the  words  before  us. 

As  they  stand  in  our  Bibles,  the  impression  that  they 
leave  upon  one*s  mind  is  that  Christ  in  them  abjures  the 
power  of  giving  to  His  disciples  their  places  in  the  king- 
dom of  heaven,  and  declares  that  it  belongs  not  to  His 
fimction,  but  relegates  it,  to  His  own  exclusion,  to  the 
Father :  whereas  what  He  says  is  the  very  opposite  of 
this.  He  does  not  put  aside  the  granting  of  places  at 
His  right  hand  or  His  left  as  not  being  within  His  pro- 
vince, but  He  states  the  principles  and  conditions  on 
which  He  does  make  such  a  grant;  and  so  is  really 
claiming  it  as  His  province.  All  tliat  would  have  been 
a  great  deal  clearer  if  our  translators  had  been  contented 


NEAREST  TO  CHRIST,  377 

to  render  the  words  that  they  found  before  them  in  the 
Book,  without  addition,  and  to  read,  "  To  sit  on  my  right 
hand  and  on  my  left  is  not  mine  to  give,  but  to  them  for 
whom  it  is  prepared  of  my  Father.** 

Another  introductory  remark  may  be  made  to  the 
effect  that  our  Lord  does  not  put  aside  this  prayer  of  His 
apostles  as  if  they  were  seeking  an  impossible  thing.  It 
18  never  safe,  I  know,  to  argue  from  the  silence  of  Scrip- 
ture. There  may  be  many  reasons  for  that  silence 
beyond  our  ken  in  any  given  case ;  but  still  it  does  strike 
one  as  noteworthy,  that,  when  this  fond  mother  and  her 
ambitious  sons  came  with  their  prayer  for  pre-eminence  in 
His  kingdom,  our  Lord  did  not  answer  what  would  have 
been  so  obvious  to  answer  if  it  had  been  true,  "  You  are 
asking  a  thing  which  cannot  be  granted  to  anybody,  for 
they  be  all  upon  one  level  in  that  kingdom  of  the 
heavens."  He  says  by  implication  the  very  opposite. 
Not  only  does  His  silence  confirm  their  belief  that  when 
He  came  in  His  glory,  some  would  be  closer  to  His  side 
than  others ;  but  the  plain  statement  of  the  text  is  that, 
in  the  depth  of  the  eternal  counsels,  and  by  the  prepara- 
tion of  Divine  grace,  there  were  thrones  nearest  to  His 
own  which  some  men  should  fill.  He  does  not  say: 
"You  are  asking  what  cannot  be."  He  does  say :  "There 
are  men  for  whom  it  is  prepared  of  my  Father." 

And  then,  still  fiirther.  He  does  not  condemn  the 
prayer  as  indicating  a  wrong  state  of  mind  on  the  part  of 
James  and  John,  though  good  and  bad  were  strangely 
mingled  in  it  We  are  told  now-a-da]^  that  it  is  a  very 
selfish  thing,  far  below  the  lofty  height  to  which  oar 


378  NEAREST  TO  CHRIST  [SERM 

transcendental  teachers  have  attained,  to  be  heartened 
and  encouraged,  strengthened  and  quickened,  by  the 
prospect  of  the  crown  and  the  rest  that  remain  for  the 
people  of  God  !  And,  if  so,  Christ  ought  to  have  turned 
round  to  these  men,  and  have  rebuked  the  passion  for 
reward,  which,  according  to  this  new  light,  is  so  unworthy 
and  so  low.  But,  instead  of  that.  He  confines  Himself 
to  explaining  the  conditions  on  which  the  desire  is 
possible,  and  by  implication  permits  and  approves  the 
desire.  You  want  to  sit  on  my  right  hand  and  on  my 
left,  do  you  ?  Then  be  it  so.  You  may  have  it  if  you 
Hke.  Are  you  ready  to  accept  the  conditions?  It  is 
well  that  you  should  want  it, — not  for  the  sake  of  being 
above  your  brethren,  but  for  the  sake  of  being  nearest  to 
Me.  Hearken  !  "  Are  ye  able  to  drink  of  the  cup  that 
I  shall  drink  of?"  "  They  say  unto  him  "  (and  I  do  not 
know  that  there  are  anywhere  grander  words  than  the 
calm,  swift,  unhesitating,  modest,  and  yet  confident 
answer  of  these  two  men)  "  we  are  able."  You  shall 
have  your  desire  if  you  fulfil  the  conditions.  It  is  given 
to  them  "  for  whom  it  is  prepared  of  my  Father." 

I.  So,  then,  if  we  rightly  understand  these  words,  and 
take  them  without  the  unfortunate  comment  which  our 
translators  have  inserted,  they  contain,  first,  the  principle 
that  some  will  be  nearer  Christ  than  others  in  thai  heavenly 
kingdom. 

As  I  have  said,  the  words  of  our  Lord  do  not 
merely  imply,  by  the  absence  of  all  hint  that  these  men's 
petition  was  impossible,  the  existence  of  degrees  among 
the  subjects  of  His  heavenly  kingdom,  but  articulately 


XXIV.]  NEAREST  TO  CI/RJST.  379 

affirm  that  such  variety  is  provided  for  by  the  preparation 
of  the  Father.  Probably  the  two  brothers  thought  that 
they  were  only  asking  for  pre-eniiiience  in  an  earthly 
kingdom,  and  had  no  idea  that  their  prayer  pointed  be- 
yond the  grave ;  but  that  confusion  of  thought  could  not 
be  cured  in  their  then  stage  of  growth,  and  our  Lord 
therefore  leaves  it  untouched.  But  the  other  error,  if  it 
were  an  error,  was  of  a  different  kind,  and  might,  for 
aught  that  one  sees,  have  been  set  right  in  a  moment. 
Instead  of  which  the  answer  Jtdopts  it,  and  seems  to  set 
Christ's  own  confirmation  on  it,  as  being  no  Jewish 
dream,  but  a  truth. 

They  were  asking  for  earth.  He  answers — for  heaven. 
He  leaves  them  to  learn  in  after  days — when  the  one 
was  slain  with  the  sword,  first  martyr  among  the  apostles, 
and  the  other  lived  to  see  them  all  pass  to  their  thrones, 
while  he  remained  the  "  companion  in  tribulation  "  of  the 
second  generation  of  the  Church — how  far  off  was  the 
fiilfilment  which  they  fancied  so  near. 

We  need  not  be  surprised  that  so  large  a  truth  should 
be  spoken  by  Christ  so  quietly,  and  as  it  were  incidentally. 
For  that  is  in  keeping  with  His  whole  tone  when  speaking 
of  the  unseen  world.  One  knows  not  whether  to  wonder 
more  at  the  decisive  authority  with  which  He  tells  us  of 
that  mysterious  region,  or  at  the  small  space  which  such 
revelations  occupy  in  His  words.  There  is  an  air  of 
simplicit}^  and  unconsciousness,  and  withal  of  authority,  and 
withal  of  Divine  reticence  about  them  all,  which  are  in  full 
harmony  with  the  belief  that  Christ  speaking  of  heaven 
speaks  of  that  He  knows,  and  testifies  that  He  hath  seen. 


380  NEAREST  TO  CHRIST.  [sERM. 

That  truth,  to  which,  as  we  think,  our  Lord's  words 
here  inevitably  lead,  is  distinctly  taught  in  many  other 
places  of  Scripture.  We  should  have  had  less  difficulty 
about  it,  and  should  have  felt  more  what  a  solemn  and 
stimulating  thought  it  is,  if  we  had  tried  a  little  more  than 
most  of  us  do,  to  keep  clear  before  us  what  really  is  the 
essential  of  that  future  life,  what  is  the  lustre  of  its  light, 
the  heaven  of  heaven,  the  glory  of  the  glory. 

Men  talk  about  physical  theories  of  another  life.  I 
suppose  they  are  possible.  They  seem  to  me  infinitely 
unimportant  Warm  imaginations,  working  by  sense, 
write  books  about  a  future  state  which  wonderfully  suc- 
ceed in  making  it  real  by  making  it  earthly.  Some  of 
them  read  more  like  a  book  of  travels  in  this  world  than 
forecastings  of  the  next  They  may  be  true  or  not  It 
does  not  matter  one  whit  I  believe  that  heaven  is  a 
place.  I  believe  that  the  corporeity  of  our  future  life  is 
essential  to  the  perfection  of  it  I  believe  that  Christ 
wears  and  will  wear  for  ever  a  human  frame.  I  believe 
that  that  involves  locality,  circumstance,  external  occupa- 
tions ;  and  I  say,  all  that  being  so,  and  in  its  own  place 
very  important,  yet  if  we  stop  there,  we  have  no  vision  of 
the  real  light  that  makes  the  lustre,  no  true  idea  of  the 
glory  that  makes  the  blessedness. 

For  what  is  heaven?  Likeness  to  God  1  Love,  purity, 
fellowship  with  Him ;  the  condition  of  the  spirit  and  the 
relation  of  the  soul  to  Him.  The  noblest  truth  about  the 
future  world  flows  from  the  words  of  our  Master — "  This 
is  life  eternal,  to  know  tliee,  the  only  trae  God,  and  Jesus 
Christ  whom  thou  hast  sent**    Not,  "  this  brings ;  **  not. 


XXIV.]  NEAREST  TO  CHRIST.  3^1 


"this  will  lead  up  to;"  not,  "this  will  draw  after  it;" 
but,  "  this  is ; "  and  whosoever  possesses  that  eternal  life 
hath  already  in  him  the  germ  of  all  the  glories  that  are 
round  the  tlirone,  and  the  blessedness  that  fills  the  hearts 
of  perfected  spirits. 

If  so,  if  already  eternal  life  in  the  bud  standeth  in  the 
knowledge  of  God  in  Christ,  what  makes  its  fruitage  and 
completeness  ?  Surely,  not  physical  changes  or  the  cir- 
cumstances of  heaven,  at  least  not  these  primarily,  how- 
ever much  such  changes  and  circumstances  may  subserve 
our  blessedness  there,  and  the  anticipation  of  them  may 
help  our  sense-bound  hopes  here.  But  the  completion 
of  heaven  is  the  completion  of  our  knowledge  of  God 
and  Christ,  with  all  the  perfecting  of  spirit  which  that 
implies  and  produces.  The  faith,  and  love,  and  happy 
obedience,  and  consecration  which  is  calm,  that  partially 
occupied  and  ruled  the  soul  here  are  to  be  thought  of  as 
enlarged,  perfected,  delivered  from  the  interruption  of 
opposing  thoughts,  of  sensuous  desires,  of  selfish  purposes, 
of  earthly  and  sinful  occupations.  And  that  perfect 
knowledge  and  perfect  union  and  perfect  likeness  are 
perfect  bUss.  And  that  bliss  is  heaven.  And  if,  whilst 
heaven  is  a  place,  the  heaven  of  heaven  be  a  state, 
then  no  more  words  are  needed  to  show  that,  then, 
heaven  can  be  no  dead  level,  nor  can  all  stand  at  the 
same  stage  of  attainments,  though  all  be  perfect;  but 
that  in  that  solemn  company  of  the  blessed,  "  the  spirits 
of  just  men  made  perfect,"  there  are  indefinitely  numerous 
degrees  of  approximation  to  the  unattainable  perfection, 
which  stretches  above  them  all,  and  draws  ihem  all  to 


382  NEAREST  TO  CHRIST  [SERM 

itself.  We  have  not  to  think  of  that  future  Hfe  as  op- 
pressed, if  I  may  so  say,  with  the  unbroken  monotony  of 
perfect  identity  in  character  and  attainments.  All  indeed 
are  like  one  another,  because  all  are  like  Jesus,  but  that 
basis  of  similarity  does  not  exclude  infinite  variety.  The 
same  glory  belongs  to  each,  but  reflected  at  differing 
angles  and  received  in  divers  measures.  Perfect  blessed- 
ness belongs  to  each,  but  the  capacity  to  receive  may 
differ.  The  same  crown  on  each  head,  the  same  song  on 
each  lip,  the  same  fulness  of  joy  filling  each  heart ;  but 
star  differeth  from  star,  and  the  great  condition  of  happy 
intercourse  on  earth  shall  not  be  wanting  in  heaven — a 
deep-seated  similarity  and  a  superficial  diversity. 

Does  not  the  very  idea  of  an  endless  progress  in  that 
kingdom  involve  that  variety  in  degree?  We  do  not 
think  of  men  passing  into  the  heavens,  and  being  per- 
fected by  a  bound  so  as  there  shall  be  no  growth.  We 
think  of  them  indeed  as  being  perfected  up  to  the  height 
of  their  then  capacity,  from  the  beginning  of  that  celes- 
tial life,  so  as  that  there  shall  be  no  sin,  nor  any  conscious 
incompleteness,  but  not  so  as  there  shall  be  no  progress. 
And,  if  they  each  grow  through  all  the  ages,  and  are  ever 
coming  nearer  and  nearer  to  Christ,  that  seems  necessarily 
to  lead  to  the  thought  that  this  endless  progress,  carried 
on  in  every  spirit,  places  them  at  different  points  of 
approximation  to  the  one  centre.  As  in  the  heavens 
there  be  planets  that  roll  nearer  and  nearer  the  central 
5un,  and  others  that  circle  farther  out  from  its  rays,  yet 
each  keeps  its  course,  and  makes  music  as  it  moves,  as 
well  as  planets  whose  broader  disc  can  receive  and  reflect 


XXIV.]  NEAREST  TO    CHRIST.  383 

more  of  the  light  than  the  smaller  sister  spheres,  and  yet 
each  blazes  over  its  whole  surface,  and  is  full  to  its  very 
rim  with  white  light ;  so  round  that  throne  the  spirits  oi 
the  just  made  perfect  shall  circle  in  order  and  peace — 
every  one  blessed,  every  one  perfect,  every  one  like  Christ 
to  begin  with,  and  becoming  liker  through  every  moment 
of  the  eternities.  Each  perfected  soul  looking  in  his 
brother's  shall  see  there  another  phase  of  the  one  i)erfect- 
ness  that  blesses  and  adorns  him  too,  and  all  taken 
together  shall  make  up,  in  so  far  as  finite  creatures  can 
make  up,  the  reflection  and  manifestation  of  the  fulness 
of  Christ  "  Having  then  gifts  differing  according  to  the 
grace  that  is  given  to  us"  is  the  law  for  the  incompleteness 
of  earth.  "Having  then  gifts  differing  according  to  the  glory 
that  is  given  to  us"  will  be  the  law  for  the  perfection  of  the 
heavens.  There  are  those  for  whom  it  is  prepared  of  His 
Father,  that  they  shall  sit  in  special  nearness  to  Him. 

II.  Still  further,  these  words  rightly  understood  assert 
that  truth,  which,  at  first  sight,  our  English  rendering 
seems  to  make  them  contradict,  viz.,  that  Christ  is  the 
giver  to  each  of  these  various  degrees  of  glory  and  blessedness. 

"  It  is  not  mine  to  give  save  to  them  for  whom  it  is 
prepared."    Then  it  is  thine  to  give  it  to  them  ! 

To  deny  or  to  doubt  that  Christ  is  the  giver  of  the  blessed- 
ness, whatsoever  the  blessedness  may  be,  that  fills  the  hearts 
and  souls  of  the  redeemed  is  to  destroy  His  whole  work,  to 
destroy  all  the  relations  upon  which  our  hopes  rest,  and  to  in- 
troduce confiision  and  contradiction  into  the  whole  matter! 

For  Scripture  teaches  us  that  He  is  God's  unspeakable 
gift ;  that  in  Him  is  given  to  us  everything ;  that  He  it 


3^4  NEAREST  TO  CHRIST,  [SERM. 

the  bestower  of  all  which  we  need;  that  out  of  His 
fulness,  as  one  of  those  two  men  said,  all  we  have  received, 
and  grace  for  grace.  There  is  nothing  within  the  compass 
of  God's  love  to  bestow  of  which  Christ  is  not  the  giver. 
There  is  nothing  Divine  that  is  done  in  the  heavens  and 
the  earth,  I  believe,  of  which  Christ  is  not  the  doer. 
The  representation  of  Scripture  is  uniformly  that  He  is 
the  activity  of  the  Divine  nature  ;  that  He  is  the  energy 
of  the  Divine  will;  that  He  is,  to  use  the  metaphor  of  the 
Old  Testament,  "the  arm  of  the  Lord" — the  forthputtmg 
of  God's  power;  that  He  is,  to  use  the  profound  ex- 
pression of  the  New  Testament,  the  word  of  the  Lord, 
cognate  with,  and  the  utterance  of  the  eternal  nature; 
the  light  that  streams  from  the  central  brightness,  the 
river  that  flows  from  the  else  sealed  fountain.  As  the  arm 
is  to  the  body  and  as  is  the  word  to  the  soul,  so  is  Christ 
to  God — the  eternal  Divine  utterance  and  manifestation 
of  the  Divine  nature.  And,  therefore,  to  talk  about  any- 
thing that  a  man  can  need  and  anything  that  God  can 
give  as  not  being  given  by  Christ,  is  to  strike  at  the  very 
foundation,  not  only  of  our  hopes,  but  at  the  whole 
scheme  of  revealed  truth.  He  is  the  giver  of  heaven  and 
everything  else  the  soul  requires. 

And  then,  again,  let  me  remind  you  that  on  this  matter 
we  are  not  left  to  such  general  considerations  as  those 
that  I  have  been  suggesting,  but  that  the  plain  statements 
of  Scripture  do  confirm  the  assertion  that  Christ  is  the 
determiner  and  the  bestower  of  all  the  differing  grades  of 
glory  and  blessedness  yonder.  For,  do  we  not  read  of 
Liim  that  He  is  the'  Judge  of  the  whole  caiUi?     Do  we 


XXIV.]  NEAREST  TO  CHRIST.  385 

not  read  of  Him  that  His  word  is  acquittal  and  His  frown 
condemnation — that  to  be  accepted  of  Him  is  the  high- 
est aim  and  end  of  the  Christian  life  ?  Do  we  not  read 
that  it  is  He  that  says  :  "  Come,  ye  blessed  of  my  Father, 
enter  into  the  kingdom  prepared  for  you  ?  "  Do  we  not 
read  that  the  apostle,  dying,  solaced  himself  with  the 
thought  that  "  there  was  laid  up  for  him  a  crown  of  glory, 
which  the  Lord,  the  righteous  Judge,  would  give  him  at 
that  day  ?  "  And  do  we  not  read  in  the  very  last  book  of 
Scripture,  written  by  one  of  those  two  brothers,  and  con- 
taining almost  verbal  reference  to  the  words  of  my  text, 
the  promise  seven  times  from  the  immortal  lips  of  the 
glorified  Son  of  Man,  walking  in  the  midst  of  the  candle- 
sticks, "To  him  that  overcometh  will  I  give?"  The 
fruit  of  the  tree  of  life  is  plucked  by  His  hands  for  the 
wearied  conquerors.  The  crown  of  life  is  given  by  Him 
to  the  faithful  witnesses.  The  hidden  manna  and  the  new 
name  are  bestowed  by  Him  on  those  who  hold  fast  His 
name.  It  is  He  v/ho  gives  the  victors  kingly  power  over 
the  nations.  He  clothes  in  white  garments  those  who 
have  not  defiled  their  robes.  His  hand  writes  upon  the 
triumphant  foreheads  the  name  of  God.  And  highest  of 
all,  beyond  which  there  is  no  bliss  conceivable,  "  To  him 
that  overcometh  will  I  grant  to  sit  with  me  in  my  throne." 

Christ  is  the  bestower  of  the  royalties  of  the  heavens 
as  of  the  redemptions  of  the  earth,  and  it  is  His  to  give 
that  which  we  crave  at  His  hands,  when  we  ask  pardon 
here  and  glory  hereafter.  "To  him  that  is  athirst  will 
he  give  of  the  water  of  life  freely,"  and  to  him  that  over 
Cometh  will  He  give  the  crown  of  gloiy. 

3  2  B 


386  NEAREST  TO  CHRIST,  [SERM. 

III.  These  words  lead  us,  in  the  third  place,  to  the 
further  thought,  that  these  glorious  places  are  not  given  to 
mere  wishing,  nor  by  mere  arbitrary  will. 

"You  would  sit  on  my  right  hand  and  on  my  left?"  "You 
think  of  that  pre-eminence  as  conferred  because  you  chose 
to  ask  it — as  given  by  a  piece  of  favouritism.  Not  so.  I 
cannot  make  a  man  foremost  in  my  kingdom  in  that  fashion. 
There  are  conditions  which  must  precede  such  an  elevation." 

And  there  are  plenty  of  people  who  think  thus  still,  as 
if  the  mere  desire,  without  anything  more,  were  enough^ 
or,  as  if  the  felicities  of  the  heavenly  world  were  depen- 
dent solely  on  Christ's  arbitrary  will,  and  could  be 
bestowed  by  an  exercise  of  mere  power,  as  an  eastern 
prince  may  make  this  man  his  vizier  and  that  other  one 
his  water  carrier.  The  same  principles  which  we  have 
already  applied  to  the  elucidation  of  the  idea  of  varieties 
and  stages  of  nearness  to  Christ  in  His  heavenly  kingdom 
have  a  bearing  on  this  matter.  If  we  rightly  understand 
that  the  essential  blessedness  of  heaven  is  likeness  to 
Christ,  we  shall  feel  that  mere  wishing  carries  no  man 
thither,  and  that  mere  sovereign  will  and  power  do  not 
avail  to  set  us  there.  There  are  conditions  indispensable, 
from  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  and  unless  they  be  real- 
ized it  is  impossible  for  us  to  receive,  as  for  Him  to  give, 
a  place  at  His  side.  If,  indeed,  all  that  future  blessedness 
consisted  in  mere  external  circumstances  and  happiei  con- 
ditions of  life,  it  might  be  so  bestowed.  But  if  place  and 
surroundings,  and  a  more  exquisite  and  ethereal  frame  are 
but  subordinate  sources  of  it,  and  its  real  fountain  is  union 
with  Jesus  and  assimilation  to  Him,  then  something  else 


XXIV.]  NEAREST  TO  CHRIST,  387 

than  idle  desires  must  wing  the  soul  that  soars  thither,  and 
His  transforming  grace,  not  His  arbitrary  will,  must  set  us 
at  His  own  right  hand  "  in  the  heavenly  places." 

Of  all  the  profitless  occupations  with  which  men  waste 
*heir  lives,  none  are  more  utterly  useless  than  wishing 
vnthout  acting.  Our  wishes  are  meant  to  impel  us  to  the 
appropriate  forms  of  energy  by  which  they  can  be  realized. 
When  a  pauper  becomes  a  millionaire  by  sitting  and  vehe- 
mently wishing  that  he  were  rich,  when  ignorance  becomes 
learning  by  standing  in  a  library  and  wishing  that  the 
contents  of  all  these  books  were  in  its  head,  there  will  be 
some  hope  that  the  gates  of  heaven  will  fly  open  to  your 
desire.  But  till  then,  "  many,  I  say  unto  you,  shall  seek 
to  enter  in  and  not  be  able."  Many  shall  seek :  do  you 
strive.  For  wishing  is  one  thing,  and  7viUing  is  another, 
and  doing  is  yet  another.  And  in  regard  to  entrance  into 
Christ's  kingdom  our  "doing"  is  trusting  in  Him  who 
has  done  all  for  us.  "  This  is  the  work  of  God  that  ye 
should  believe  on  him  whom  he  hath  sent."  Does  our 
T^nsh  lead  us  to  the  acceptance  of  the  condition  ?  Then 
it  will  be  fulfilled.  If  not,  it  will  remain  fruitless,  will  die 
into  apathy,  or  will  live  as  a  pang  and  a  curse. 

You  wish,  or  fancy  you  wish,  to  pass  into  heaven  when 
you  die,  I  suppose.  Some  of  its  characteristics  attract 
you.  You  believe  in  punishment  for  sin,  and  you  would 
willingly  escape  that  You  believe  in  a  place  of  rest  after 
toil,  of  happiness  after  sorrow,  where  nipping  frosts  of 
disappointment,  and  wild  blasts  of  calamity,  and  slow 
gnawing  decay  no  more  harm  and  kill  your  joys — and 
you  would  like  that     But  do  you  wish  to  be  pure  and 


388  NEAREST  TO  CHRIST,  [SERM, 

stainless,  to  have  your  hearts  fixed  on  God  alone,  to 
have  your  whole  being  filled  with  Him,  and  emptied  of 
self  and  sense  and  sin.  The  peace  of  heaven  attracts 
you — but  its  praise  repels,  does  it  not  ?  The  happiness 
draws  your  wishes — does  the  holiness  seem  inviting  ?  It 
would  be  joyful  to  be  far  away  from  punishment — would  it 
be  as  joyful  to  be  near  Christ?  Ah  !  no;  the  wishes  lead 
to  no  resolve,  and  therefore  to  no  result,  for  this  among 
other  reasons,  because  they  are  only  kindled  by  a  part  of 
the  whole,  and  are  exchanged  for  positive  aversion  when 
the  real  heaven  of  heaven  is  presented  to  your  thoughts. 
Many  a  man  who,  by  the  set  of  his  whole  life,  is  drifting 
daily  nearer  and  nearer  that  region  of  outer  darkness,  is 
conscious  of  the  idle  wish  for  peace  and  joy  beyond  the 
grave.  In  common  matters  a  man  may  be  devoured  with 
vain  desires  all  his  life-time,  because  he  will  not  pass  be- 
yond wishing  to  acting  accordingly.  "  The  desire  of  the 
slothful  killeth  him,  because  his  hands  refused  to  labour ; 
he  coveteth  greedily  all  the  day  long."  And  with  like 
but  infinitely  more  tragical  issues  do  these  vain  ^vishes  for 
a  place  in  that  calm  world,  where  nothing  but  holiness 
enters,  gnaw  at  many  a  soul.  "  Let  me  die  the  death  of 
the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his,"  was  the 
aspiration  of  that  Gentile  prophet,  whose  love  of  the 
world  obscured  even  the  prophetic  illumination  which  he 
possessed — and  his  epitaph  is  a  stem  comment  on  the 
uselessness  of  such  empty  wishes,  "  Balaam,  the  son  of 
Beor,  they  slew  with  the  sword."  It  needs  more  than  a 
wish  to  sit  at  Christ's  right  hand  in  His  kingdom. 

Nor  can  such  a  place  be  given  by  mere  arbitrary  wilL 


XXIV.]  NEAREST  TO  CHRIST,  389 

Christ  could  not,  if  he  would,  take  a  man  to  His  right 
hand  whose  heart  was  not  the  home  of  simple  trust  and 
thankful  love,  whose  nature  and  desires  were  unprepared 
for  that  blessed  world.  It  would  be  like  taking  one  of  those 
creatures — if  there  be  such — that  live  on  the  planet  whose 
orbit  is  farthest  from  the  sun,  accustomed  to  cold,  organized 
for  darkness,  and  carrying  it  to  that  great  central  blaze,  with 
all  its  fierce  flames  and  tongues  of  fiery  gas  that  shoot  up  a 
thousand  miles  in  a  moment  It  would  crumble  and  dis- 
appear before  its  blackness  could  be  seen  against  the  blaze. 

His  loving  will  embraces  us  all,  and  is  the  foundation 
of  all  our  hopes.  But  it  had  to  reach  its  purpose  by  a 
bitter  road  which  He  did  not  shrink  from  travelling.  He 
desires  to  save  us,  and  to  realize  the  desire  He  had  to  die. 
"It  became  him  for  whom  are  all  things,  in  bringing 
many  sons  unto  glory,  to  make  the  captain  of  their  salva- 
tion perfect  through  suffering."  \Vliat  He  had  to  do,  we 
have  to  accept  Unless  we  accept  the  mercy  of  God  in 
Christ,  no  wish  on  our  parts,  nor  any  exercise  of  power  on 
His,  will  carry  us  to  the  heaven  which  He  has  died  to 
open,  and  of  which  He  is  at  once  the  giver  and  the  gift 

IV.  These  glorious  places  are  given  as  the  result  of  a 
Divine  preparation. 

"  To  them  for  whom  it  is  prepared  of  my  Father."  We 
have  seen  that  Christ  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  abjuring  the 
office,  with  which  His  disciples'  confidence  led  them  to  in- 
vest Him — that  of  allotting  to  His  servants  their  place  in 
His  kingdom.  He  neither  refers  it  to  the  Father  without 
Himselfi  nor  claims  it  for  Himself  without  the  Father. 
The  living  unity  of  will  and  work  which  subsists  between 


39®  NEAREST  TO  CHRIST,  [SERM. 

the  Father  and  the  Son  forbids  such  a  separation  and  dis- 
tribution of  office.  And  that  unity  is  set  forth  on  both  its 
sides  in  His  own  deep  words,  "  The  Son  can  do  nothing 
of  himself,  but  what  he  seeth  the  Father  do  :  for  whatso- 
ever things  he  doeth,  these  also  doeth  the  Son  likewise." 

So,  then,  while  the  gift  of  thrones  at  His  side  is  His 
act  and  the  Father's,  in  like  manner  the  preparation  of 
the  royal  seats  for  their  occupants,  and  of  the  kings  for 
their  thrones,  is  the  Father's  act  and  His. 

Our  text  does  not  tell  us  directly  what  that  preparation 
is,  any  more  than  it  tells  us  directly  what  the  principles 
are  on  which  entrance  into  and  pre-eminence  in  the  king- 
dom are  granted.  But  we  know  enough  in  regard  to  both, 
for  our  practical  guidance,  for  the  vigour  of  our  hope,  and 
the  grasp  of  our  faith. 

There  is  a  twofold  Divine  preparation  of  the  heavens 
for  men.  One  is  from  of  old.  The  kingdom  is  "prepared 
for  you  before  the  foundation  of  the  world."  That  pre- 
paration is  the  eternal  counsel  of  the  Divine  love,  which 
calleth  the  things  that  are  not  as  though  they  were,  and 
before  which  all  that  is  evolved  in  the  generations  of  men 
and  the  epochs  of  time,  lies  on  one  plane,  equally  near  to 
Him  from  whose  throne  diverge  far  beneath  the  triple 
streams  of  past,  present,  and  future. 

And  beside  that  preparation,  the  counsel  of  pardoning 
mercy  and  redeeming  grace,  there  is  the  other  preparation 
— the  realization  of  that  eternal  purpose  in  time  through 
the  work  of  Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord.  His  consolation  to 
His  disciples  in  the  parting  hour  was,  "  I  go  to  prepare  a 
place  for  you."     How  much  was  included  in  these  words 


XXIV.]  NEAREST  TO  CHRIST,  391 

we  shall  never  know  till  we,  like  Him,  see  of  the  travail 

of  His  soul,  and  like  Him  are  satisfied.  But  we  can 
dimly  see  that  on  the  one  hand  His  death,  and  on  the 
other  hand  His  entrance  into  that  holiest  of  all,  make 
ready  for  us  the  many  mansions  of  the  Father's  house. 
He  was  crucified  for  our  offences,  He  was  raised  again 
for  our  justification.  He  is  passed  through  the  heavens 
to  stand  our  forerunner  in  the  presence  of  God — and  by 
all  these  mighty  acts  He  prepares  the  heavenly  places  for 
us.  As  the  sun  behind  a  cloud,  which  hides  it  from  us,  is 
still  pouring  out  its  rays  on  far  off  lands,  so  He,  veiled  in 
dark  sunset  clouds  of  Calvary,  sent  the  energy  of  His 
passion  and  cross  into  the  unseen  world  and  made  it 
possible  that  we  should  enter  there.  "  When  thou  didst 
overcome  the  sharpness  of  death,  thou  didst  open  the 
gates  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  all  believers."  As  one 
who  precedes  a  mighty  host,  provides  and  prepares  rest 
for  their  weariness,  and  food  for  their  hunger,  in  some 
city  on  their  line  of  march,  and  having  made  all  things 
ready,  is  at  the  gates  to  welcome  their  travel-stained  ranks 
when  they  arrive,  and  guide  them  to  their  repose ;  so  He 
has  gone  before,  our  forerunner,  to  order  all  things  for  us 
there.  It  may  be  that  unless  Christ  were  in  heaven,  our 
brother  as  well  as  our  Lord,  it  were  no  place  for  mortals. 
It  may  be  that  we  need  to  have  His  glorified  bodily  pres- 
ence in  order  that  it  should  be  possible  for  human  spirits 
to  bear  the  light,  and  be  at  home  ^vith  God.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  this  we  know,  that  the  Father  prepares  a  place  for  us 
by  the  eternal  counsel  of  His  love,  and  by  the  all  sufficient 
work  of  Christ,  by  whom  we  have  access  to  the  Father. 


392  NEAREST  TO  CHRIST, 

And  as  His  work  is  the  Father's  preparation  of  the  place 
for  us  by  the  Son,  the  issue  of  His  work  is  the  Father's  pre- 
paration of  us  for  the  place,  through  the  Son,  by  the  Spirit. 
"He  that  hath  wrought  us  for  the  self-same  thing  is  God." 

If  so,  then  what  follows?  This,  among  other  things. 
Wishes  are  vain.  Heaven  is  no  gift  of  arbitrary  favourit- 
ism. But  faith  in  Christ,  and  faith  alone,  leads  us  to  His 
right  hand — and  the  measure  of  our  faith  and  growing 
Christlikeness  here  will  be  the  measure  of  our  glory  here- 
after, and  of  our  nearness  to  Him.  It  is  possible  to  be 
*'  saved,  yet  so  as  by  Jire.'*  It  is  ])0S5ible  to  have  "  an 
entrance  ministered  unto  us  abundantly  into  the  everlast- 
ing kingdom  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  Jesus  Christ*'  If 
we  would  be  near  Him  then,  we  must  be  near  Him  now. 
If  we  would  share  His  throne,  we  must  bear  the  cross. 
If  we  would  be  found  in  the  likeness  of  His  resurrection, 
we  must  be  "  conformable  unto  his  death."  Then  such 
desires  as  these  true-hearted,  and  yet  mistaken,  disciples 
expressed  will  not  be  selfish  ambition,  but  dependent  love. 
They  will  not  be  vain  wishes — but  accepted  by  Him^ 
who,  stooping  from  amid  the  royalties  of  heaven,  with 
love  upon  His  face  and  pity  in  His  heart,  will  give  more 
than  we  ask.  "  Seekest  thou  a  place  at  my  right  hand  ? 
Nay,  I  give  thee  a  more  wondrous  dignity.  To  him  that 
overcometh  will  I  grant  to  sit  with  me  in  my  throne." 


Date  Due 


5Er 


Princeton  Theological 


Semmary-Speer  tibrar 


1012  01080  2397 


